


One Man's Treasure, Another's Curse

by MegaShinyObject



Series: This Is Overwatch [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Friendship/Love, M/M, Multi, Relationship(s), crappy fight scenes, seriously i suck at fight scenes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 02:28:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 85,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8950354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MegaShinyObject/pseuds/MegaShinyObject
Summary: When the newly reformed Overwatch receives a distress signal from a rather unlikely source, they suddenly find themselves protecting the last person on Earth they'd ever expected to work with.





	1. Prologue

**Prologue: Recall**

At the time he'd hit the recall button, Winston had been high on adrenaline after fighting for his life. When people started answering the call, he was elated; they were going to get the old crew back together. Well, as many as they could find, anyway. But a few weeks later, he started to second guess his decision. Was this a good idea? Was he putting eveyone in danger for the right reasons? Was there another way to do this...?

Could he have protected his friends any other way?

The answer was no, of course. Short of contacting every single person on the list of agents personally and explaining the situation, there was no way to get the word out other than the recall. It was the only way to let the old agents know that the situation was dire.

There was also the fact that Winston had been compiling a list of potential recruits in his free time, and the names of every single one of those recruits were on the list the Reaper had tried to steal. These people weren't prepared for whatever Talon would rain down on them.

He'd put them in danger.

He had to find a way to save them.

The first person to answer his call had, of course, been Tracer. Her boundless energy and happy greeting did wonders for lifting Winston's spirits. He didn't particularly feel better about putting his friends in danger, but he felt better having her around at least. She arrived at Watchpoint: Gibraltar, ready to go.

And then everything remained quiet.

At first, Winston was discouraged. He'd kind of been hoping everyone would return and everything could be like it had been before; the more practical side of him knew, that wasn't the way this worked, though. These people had most likely moved on from Overwatch, or were afraid to return at the expense of possible incarceration for treason. It made sense, he supposed. Still, he'd hoped...

It wasn't until after Winston and Tracer had returned from their mission in Numbani that the second person answered the call; Reinhardt had explained that he'd been wary of the message and wanted to varify it before answering. It was a smart move, really. It wasn't impossible for an enemy to fake a transmission to bring Overwatch agents out of retirement and into direct danger. It had already happened once, as a matter of fact, but the agent in question had been able to get away without incident. They'd contacted Winston to let him know that someone was hunting Agents.

Come to think of it, that had probably been Talon...

Nonetheless, Reinhardt Wilhelm arrived a few days later, ready, willing, and able to return to Overwatch. He'd made mention of a girl named Brigitte who had tried to convince him not to go, but he'd apparently assured her he would be okay and had gone anyway. Winston hadn't been aware how much he'd missed the big man's over enthusiastic hugs. It was nice to get one again.

From that point on, answers came rolling on in. Among those who agreed to return were Mercy and Torbjorn, though Mercy was doing so reluctantly, it seemed. Both McCree and Genji answered the call but admitted they were hesitant about returning; eventually McCree was convinced, but Genji decided not to come back. At least not yet. Apparently Fareeha Amari had received Ana's call (an unfortunate side effect to the fact that Winston hadn't purged the deceased members' names from the contact list yet), and volunteered to come. Winston tried to talk her out of it -- he didn't want to see the girl get hurt in all this -- but she insisted; there was no talking her out of it. Mercy had even spoken with a young scientist named Mei, who Winston had learned was apparently among those who'd been in Watchpoint: Antarctica. He'd been under the impression that no one there had survived, but nonetheless, he was happy to have more scientists on the team, and Mei was more than happy to help out.

Even many of the new recruits answered the call, which was a good thing in Winston's eyes; if he could keep these people safe after putting them in danger, that was all the better.

However, the tough part came next: They couldn't bring anyone in until they had a new base of operations.

Gibraltar was devastated by Reaper's attack, and there was the added problem that Talon now knew where it was. There hadn't been any attempts on the facility again, but Winston knew that the second it became clear Overwatch was active again they'd return to finish the job. Plus, six years of near inactivity, with everything being used only by Winston himself had led to the equipment not being the best. They needed to salvage what they could and move, find a new base to work from.

Eventually they found contacts in Sweden, through Torbjorn, and activated the old Watchpoint there. It was in a lovely wooded area that opened up to the sky, built into the side of a large mountain in the Scandinavian Mountains. Sure, it would probably be cold in the winter, but they'd deal with that when the time came. Everything there was just as run down as it was in Gibraltar, but Torbjorn insisted it could be rebuilt. The most important thing to note was that, as of right now, Talon nor anyone else had any idea where Overwatch was operating from for the moment. That was what counted.

And so, eleven months after that fateful day the Recall was sent out, Overwatch was born anew.

And Winston had never felt so scared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to user clind for catching a geographical mistake I made when I originally posted this. It's been fixed, and I'm very sorry (and ashamed) for not double checking my research before posting.


	2. Junker In Distress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me a while to even want to post here; I kept wanting to try and put another chapter in between this one and the prologue, detailing how the new Overwatch members get along, but nothing I wrote felt right and just seemed...slow. Eventually I just sent this chapter to a friend for some input, and she said it flowed well, so I just posted this one.
> 
> So here you go, chapter 2.
> 
> Enjoy.

It was about three in the morning when the light from the monitor woke Winston from a deep sleep. He'd finally been able to actually sleep, which was something he didn't do often; he had a hard time turning his brain off most of the time. He was always thinking, always planning. Even when he wanted to sleep, he often couldn't.

So being awoken from a rare, welcomed slumber was more than a little annoying.

"Mmmmph. Athena?"

"I'm sorry, Winston. But there's an urgent call for you."

Winston sighed and opened one eye, temporarily blinded by the light from the monitor, "Can't it wait until the morning?"

"I did say 'urgent,' Winston," Athena said with a bit of amusement to her voice, "And technically it is morning."

"Three in the morning, doesn't count, Athena," Winston could feel his annoyance rising, and was surprised by how much this little interruption to his sleep was irritating him, "I was out cold..."

Despite himself, he sat up and reached for his glasses on the bedside table, stretching once they were properly situated on his face. He yawned, but refused to stand from his bed until he knew for certain what this was about. He gave the nearest camera an impatient glare, certain Athena would see it and respond without him ever having to say a word.

Without a word, Athena opened the video message on the largest monitor against the wall across from the bed.

The first thing to greet Winston through the screen was security camera footage of an incredibly dirty face sporting a wide, almost psychotic grin. The man on the other end of the camera was tall and lean, with a look of perpetual crazy about him. He was literally smoking, the tips of what had once probably been blond hair all aglow with light flame. Behind him, a much larger man stood, gas mask obstructing his face, and tattoos covering his massive frame.

Winston knew these two...

"Junkrat and Roadhog? The international criminals?" he asked, a bit of skepticism in his voice. What would these two want with Overwatch?

The two had never been high on Overwatch's list of potential threats. They were mostly a minor nuisance who happened to steal things that didn't belong to them. Their biggest crime had admittedly boiled down to stealing the Crown Jewels, of which the authorities had only found half. They'd never technically hurt a soul, outside of literally stealing candy from children at one point, so Overwatch had never really been called in to deal with them.

Their names, and faces, were very well known, however.

And here they were on the monitor inside Winston's bedroom.

"Athena, what's going on?"

"The thieves known as Junkrat and Roadhog were caught infiltrating this bank in Sydney just over an hour and a half ago," Athena said, her tone going from conversational to formal, "They broke in, tied up everyone inside and threw them into the safe, where they locked the door."

Winston rubbed his face, "Athena...was this really that urgent? Can't the authorities in Sydney handle this...?"

Athena gave a very human sounding huff, almost amused, and continued on, "They didn't steal anything, Winston. They captured the people inside, tied them up, left this message on the security cameras, and left the premesis. Roadhog even rang the alarm on their way out."

"Wait, what...? Why? That doesn't make any sense..."

"The security camera footage has no sound, but just watch."

She started the video and sure enough, nothing but the static sound of a black and white security camera could be heard. Winston rolled his eyes; humans could come up with technology to genetically enhance gorillas to be smarter than most of them, but actual decent security camera footage couldn't be achieved for small businesses...somehow. It was irritating, but he figured he could attribute that to the fact that he was up at three in the morning.

On screen, Junkrat gave the camera a big grin, tongue hanging out of his mouth like some deranged hyena. Even without audio, it was clear he was probably giggling like mad as he held up a large, handwritten sign. The writing was sloppy, but everything was spelled correctly, surprisingly enough.

"Overwatch," the sign said, "Come to Sydney." He dropped that sign and held up another, "There's treasure in it for you," That one dropped and another came up, "You'd hate to have something bad happen, right?" And then another, "Come quickly."

Athena ended the video there, removing it from the monitor entirely, "They left the bank after that."

"And no one was hurt?"

"No one. They left the hostages inside the safe, terrified but unharmed."

Now, that was odd. The video had the distinct air of being a threat for one reason or another, but the two had just scared the holy hell out of a bunch of people and run off, presumably after trashing the place. They hadn't even taken anything along the way. It was a long way to go to get Overwatch's attention, to be sure.

But why?

Why had the duo gone to such lengths to get their attention? Few people even knew that Overwatch had made a comeback, but Winston supposed the criminal underground would have the connections to figure it out. What was so urgent that Junkrat, who hadn't ever really entered into Overwatch's peripherals as anything other than a minor nuisance, would go out of his way to cause such a ruckus? And to cause such a ruckus without causing any damage? That was bizarre.

It was worth checking out...

Though he would have to discuss with Athena the definition of "urgent."

"I'll talk to the others in the morning, Athena," Winston said with interest, giving a nod, "They'll need to know, and I want to check this out."

"Very well, Winston. Rest well."

Winston huffed and shook his head before lying back down, "I'll try, Athena. Night."  
__________________________________________________________________________________

"He's on a watchlist," McCree said from behind his cup of morning coffee.

Winston had told his friends and a couple of the new recruits about the odd video from Junkrat, and now they were gathered around the breakfast table in the rec room discussing it. McCree had been the first to speak something that hadn't been a question, and now Winston was intrigued.

"What do you mean?"

McCree shrugged and slowly set his cup on the table, leaning back in his chair with the air of someone who just truly didn't care, "I was working as a bounty hunter, before I got your call. I still get the bounty lists from time to time, keep up with what's goin' on out there." He paused to adjust his hat and finally, for the first time that morning, make eye contact with Winston, "Junkrat's on that list, my friend."

"So...why would he call us?" Winston asked, "He's a criminal who's managed to get himself in trouble again, and he just expects us to help him?

 

McCree chuckled, "My best guess? He fell in with the wrong crowd, and the worst kinds of people are hunting him."

"That man fell into the wrong crowd a long time ago," Mei spoke up from her seat at the table, where she'd been sitting at attention since the start of the conversation.

Mei was an interesting person to Winston. She was smart, sweet, and an absolute joy to be around. He rarely saw her get angry or upset; like Tracer, she was almost eternally upbeat. She had nothing but positive things to say about most people she met.

So the amount of vitriol in her voice as she spoke surprised Winston.

Granted, he'd only known her personally for a few months following the recall. She'd arrived in Sweden just in time to help set up the labs after everyone had brought everything over from Gibraltar. In that time, she'd proven herself to get along with just about everyone she came across, and with the exception of one guy who'd been recruited into Torbjorn's engineering department and had been turned down by Mei for a date, everyone got along with her rather well, too. Winston had yet to see her angry or upset, and she seemed at her happiest when she was able to work in her lab or simply hang out with friends. She could have an angry side Winston didn't know about, for sure, but he kind of doubted it. She was just so nice...

Unless it came to Junkrat, apparently.

"What kind of person terrorizes innocent people?" Mei continued on once it became clear everyone was looking at her, "Just to get attention? It's unwarranted. He could have just asked."

McCree raised a brow, "You're saying you don't want to help him?"

"No, I don't," Mei said, crossing her arms, "He's a bully and a thief."

"He could die."

McCree's comment seemed to catch her off guard; as angry as she seemed to be at the man she'd never even met in person before for his treatment of the innocents inside the bank, she didn't seem to want to let her anger go so far as to allow another person to get hurt. So he'd tormented some people. He hadn't hurt them. And while they certainly hadn't deserved the scare they'd received (and the probable months of therapy that would have to come after being held at gunpoint and tied up), Junkrat certainly didn't deserve to die for it.

She seemed to be processing this.

"Whatever our reasons are," Winston said slowly, so as not to interrupt Mei's thoughts, "something clearly isn't right here. I think we should assemble a small team and go to Sydney."

In the end, the grand majority agreed with the decision (though Tracer reminded Winston that, as the leader of Overwatch, he could have technically just ordered it instead of taking a vote), and a team was assembled to go to Sydney. The flight would take around two hours, and according to Tracer, they would be arriving in the middle of the night due to the time change.

Perfect. Winston could return the favor and wake Junkrat at three in the morning.

Because of the weird feeling Winston had about this, he'd refused to allow any of the new recruits to come along; Fareeha heavily protested the order and strong armed her way onto the dropship anyway, in full gear and ready to go. Winston didn't feel the need to argue and allowed it, in the end.

So he, Tracer, McCree, Reinhardt, Fareeha, Torbjorn, Mei, and Angela all piled into the dropship and Tracer began to pilot the long flight to Sydney.


	3. Welcome To Sydney

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everyone!
> 
> A lot of people are saying this is the worst year ever, but keep in mind that, through all the bad stuff, sad stuff, and just plain weird stuff, Overwatch is among the good that graced our lives in 2016. The amazing characters, the epic story (which I hope we get more of in the upcoming year!), and of course the wonderful fans! I know I look forward to seeing what Blizzard gives us in 2017!
> 
> This will be the final chapter of One Man's Treasure in 2016. Here's to a lot more next year!

Fareeha, despite her best efforts, had actually managed to fall asleep in the world's most uncomfortable chair while wearing her full suit of armor. In retrospect, it probably would have been easier and more practical to put on her armor when they got closer to their destination, as Reinhardt had probably planned to do, but dammit, she was trying to make a point.

Winston had tried to insist she stay behind with the other recruits, because of some bad feeling he had. That was not going to happen. She hadn't joined Overwatch to sit back with a bunch of children and play video games all day.

Fareeha Amari had never been that kind of kid, the kind who could relax in front of a television screen with a controller in hand and a can of soda beside her on the floor while she played games. She'd always been active, often much to her late mother's chagrin. She loved to climb trees, play, run, or take the occasional self defense class.

You know, typical kid stuff.

It wasn't that she didn't like the recruits. Lucio was a perfectly polite young man who she'd had fun getting to know these last few months. He'd opened her eyes to different kinds of music, and she hadn't realized just how much she liked music as a whole until he'd arrived at Overwatch HQ. He was also very smart and eloquent, and was always funny and upbeat. In general, she just liked being around him and wouldn't have minded staying behind with him so much if it weren't for one little thing....

Hana Song.

It wasn't that she didn't like Hana...Okay, well maybe she didn't like Hana. The girl was energetic and loud, and not in the good way like Tracer had always been. Hana was obnoxious, in-your-face, and a bit of a know-it-all. She was some kind of professional gamer-turned-soldier, but Fareeha couldn't help but wonder what kind of captain would allow her into their ranks. She was combative and didn't follow orders well. Like Fareeha, she had tried to fight to allow herself to come along for this mission.

There was one difference in Fareeha's mind, however.

The problem was that most of the people on this ship had known her as a child, had watched her grow up. So to them, she was still that little girl they had to protect and take care of. Except she wasn't anymore. She was only five years younger than Angela and Jesse, for crying out loud! She was in her thirties now, she wasn't a child! She'd proven herself as a leader with Helix several times, which was something they would all know if they'd just look at her profile. She knew they wanted to keep her safe, and she appreciated that, but...she didn't need it.

Hana Song was nineteen years old.

She'd made her living as a professional gamer, streaming stupid stuff to kids around the world and had somehow become rich and famous off of it. She'd been recruited, for some reason, to help fight in Korea alongside other gamers. It was something that was probably much better suited to an actual military force, in Fareeha's mind, rather than a bunch of kids with controllers.

Fareeha had proven herself.

Hana hadn't. Not yet.

Fareeha trusted Winston, so that hadn't been the issue. If he saw some value in the girl, then there had to be one. She just had yet to see it, in all honesty. Even Lucio, who she adored, seemed to just...not fit. Every memory she had of Overwatch involved strong, committed, talented, loyal people doing what had to be done in the moment to save the world.

Lucio and Hana liked to sit around and play video games all day, and several times Lucio had been busted by Winston for literally skating on the walls. Skating. On. The. Walls.

These were the people Winston had recruited.

Most of the other recruits weren't exactly better. One had taken a shining to Mei and had reacted with a less than mature attitude when she turned him down for a date, throwing a literal temper tantrum. Another of them had been caught doing drugs by Angela INSIDE THE MEDICAL BAY. This was supposed to be a nurse working on injured individuals, and they were doing drugs.

Admittedly, that one had been asked to leave, but still...

Had Overwatch really fallen that far?

Fareeha refused to believe it. She would fight to make Overwatch what it had once been, what she remembered it being.

That's why she'd fought her way onto this plane; she was going to make a difference. It was going to happen. She'd prove herself.

If proving herself meant falling asleep on the flight out to Sydney and waking up unable to move.

Oh. Good.

The dropship made a smooth landing, which was what had awoken Fareeha in the first place; the sudden absence of jet noise made for a suprisingly effective alarm. She opened her eyes and tried to sit up straight only to realize that she was more or less stuck in her slumped over position thanks to the combination of the armor and the stiff chair. From the corner where he was putting on his armor, Fareeha could hear Reinhardt let out a small huff of laughter. She looked over at him and met his eyes with what she hoped was an angry, frustrated face, but was probably a helpless one since she was stuck and sore.

Very, very sore.

Why had she fallen asleep like that? She never fell asleep...

"Here, let me help you," Angela's voice came from her right. Her voice was light and sweet, quiet as though trying not to attract too much attention to Fareeha's plight. It seemed only she and Reinhardt had noticed, so Fareeha let out a little sigh of relief. At least the only people who noticed were her most trusted friends.

Angela moved to stand over Fareeha, the light glinting off the halo around her head and bouncing through her perfect blonde locks. Fareeha had forgotten how beautiful Angela was, really. She suddenly felt embarrassed that Angela had noticed her in this position; she was supposed to be strong, like her mother, and instead she was stuck inside a chair.

And her childhood crush had noticed it.

She hoped desperately that she wasn't blushing as she grabbed Angela's hand and allowed the slight woman to pull her to her feet.

"Do we even know how to find this guy?" Torbjorn asked as he gathered up his tools.

Winston gave a shrug, "I'm...not sure."

Torbjorn raised a brow, "We flew all the way here, and we're not even sure how to contact the kid?"

"I kinda think he'll find us," McCree said.

Tracer came down from the cockpit, adjusting her goggles to sit on top of her hair, "We landed inside an old warehouse district. We should have a couple hours before we're picked up on any military scanners. Any idea where to start?"

Torbjorn scoffed, "None, apparently."

"He could still be near the bank?" Winston suggested.

Fareeha shook her head, attempting to stretch a bit to get the kinks out of her sore muscles, "No, he wouldn't stay there. He tore that place up and terrorized the people inside. Police will be crawling all over it."

Tracer opened the dropship door and started walking down the slowly descending gangplank, "Well, I'm tired of being in here, luvs, let's get some fresh air and regroup, yeah?"

Everyone more or less agreed and followed her out into the cool, crisp moonlight.

Fareeha had never been to Sydney, but it had always been on the list of places she wanted to visit. The air was humid and there was the slight smell of saltwater and fish. It reminded her a bit of the smell of the old market she and her mother used to visit in Cairo, before they were recruited into Overwatch. She couldn't help but smile at that memory.

"Athena?" Winston asked, holding a small tablet in one hand, "Any ideas on where to start? Did Junkrat leave us coordinates, or...?"

There was silence from the speakers for a while, then a resolute, "No."

"He's playing with us," Mei said.

McCree sighed, "At this point, I'm inclined to agree."

"You think he went through all of this for no reason?" Winston asked.

"Oh, I think there's a reason," McCree said, "Get us out in the open, maybe. We ain't exactly legal right now, Winston, and if there are other people out there like the Reaper who want us dead...." he paused, "Well, if they're willing to pay for it, I wouldn't put it past those Junker assholes to try and get us."

"We're just now taking this into consideration?" Torbjorn asked, "Now that we're HERE?"

McCree shrugged, "Honestly just thought of it."

Fareeha glanced around. Aside from some rundown buildings, the place was pretty open. She had her suit, she could fly around and see what she could find....

"We might be able to get a better view of things from the air," she finally ventured out loud to the group, "I could take a look."

Winston nodded, "Ang---Uh, Mercy. Go with her."

Right. Code names on the field. Angela was Mercy now.

Mercy nodded and gave Fareeha a resolute look, "Lead the way. Pharah."

It was weird, having her old friends call her by that name, but somehow it felt good. It felt like they were accepting her as an official member of Overwatch. The callsign was a good sign.

Pharah donned her helmet and took off into the sky, cradling her rocket launcher under one arm. Behind her, she could hear Mercy's Valkyrie suit taking flight with a light, airy tinkling sound and a warm yellow glow.

If it weren't for the possible life or death situation they had on their hands, this would actually be kind of romantic.... 

_No, Fareeha, get a hold of yourself, for crying out loud. This is a mission. Not a date._

Suddenly, a shot rang out. For a split second, Pharah thought she'd been hit, but only for a second; instead, the wing of her suit had been hit and was smoking. She was going to go down, for sure.

"Pharah?" Winston's panicked voice came through her ear comms, "What happened?"

"Fareeha?" Angela called from behind her, almost at the same time, "What happened?"

"Someone's shooting!" Pharah called out to both of them at once, pulling back on her flight pattern so that, if she fell, she wouldn't fall far. She could control the fall if the need arose; she hadn't lost too much jet fuel yet...

Another shot rang out, this one narrowly missing Mercy, who took a small dive to the right to avoid it. She righted herself again and shot upward toward Pharah. Pharah shook her head, "No, down. Go down."

Mercy nodded and entended the golden wings of her Valkyrie suit, slowing her descent to the ground. Pharah followed suit, trying her best to keep from plummeting as her fuel slowly drained. All the while, she kept trying to find the source of the shots. A sniper of some kind? Was McCree right? Had Junkrat set them up?

The two women landed safely on the ground, with Mercy touching down a bit more gracefully than Pharah. They were separated from the rest of the group because of their flight pattern, but Pharah could see the top of the dropship from their location.

The only problem was, they weren't sure who or what was out there.

"Winston," Pharah said through the comms, "We're on the ground. We're uninjured, but my wing was shot out."

"What do you mean, 'shot out?'" Winston asked, panic in his voice.

"There's someone shooting. I can't find them, but they hit my wing and they almost hit Mercy."

"How far out are you?"

"I can see the dropship from here."

She could hear Winston's sigh of relief over the comms, and she was relieved as well, quite frankly. Any farther to the left and that bullet would have missed her right wing completely and gone into her shoulder or chest.

"Head back this way," Winston said, "We'll meet you. Prepare for a fight if need be, we'll be there."

Pharah nodded once, "Yes, sir." It was an almost innate thing, when taking orders, just to follow them. In this situation, Winston was her commanding officer, so it was natural for her to just call him sir. It was only after the words left her mouth that she realized it sounded odd, but it felt right somehow.

She trusted Winston. He deserved that kind of respect from her.

"Let's go," she said to Mercy, motioning toward the dropship, "Stay with me."

Mercy nodded, holding her staff with a white knuckled grip. As if she would go anywhere else.

They met up with the group with no problems, a fact that surprised Pharah more than anything. She'd expected an attack, honestly. Where was the attack?

"You okay?" Winston asked, scooping them up into a big hug almost without thinking. Pharah, despite herself, returned it and nodded, "Yes, we're fine."

"It seems a sniper has their eyes on the skies," Mercy chimed in, looking around in what wasn't quite a fearful way, but came across as marginally paranoid.

"Junkrat's no sniper..." McCree muttered, scanning the area around them.

They were surrounded by old buildings, all abandoned or barely working. The asphault had cracked and allowed grass and weeds to grow through unobstructed. There were a few cars, but they were either broken down completely or stolen and awaiting someone to come pick them up. It seemed the only functional building anywhere near them was some kind of tattoo parlour/bar that boasted a sign saying "NO OMNICS" in large, flashing letters.

Other than that sign, the street was dark.

The sniper could literally be anywhere.

"How did they see you up there?" Winston asked, squinting, "It's very dark..."

"Nightvision scope, maybe?" Tracer asked with a shrug. Her voice was far too loud for Pharah's liking, carrying across the buildings in a small echo. Tracer seemed to notice this however, as when she next spoke, her voice was quiet, "We should head back to the ship, yeah?"

Reinhardt suddenly turned to his left, face obstructed beneath the helmet of his armor, and extended his left arm in front of him. A large blue barrier field began to extend from his gauntlet, shielding them all.

"I think it may be too late for that," he muttered.

Everyone turned to look in the direction he'd faced to defend, and Pharah's stomach lept into her chest.

From behind alleyways and fences, out of low hanging windows and one of the most-likely-stolen cars, came a large group of fourty, maybe fifty people. They were a filthy lot, covered in dirt and grime and some of them wearing nothing but rags for clothes. Their weapons were old, or downright handmade. Hair, teeth, eyes, and limbs were missing from most of the members, and each one of them had the air of psychosis among them.

What they were doing all the way out here in Sydney from the Outback, Pharah would never know, but she certainly knew what this particular group of thugs was supposed to be.

Junkers.

And a whole lot of them.

"G'day," said the woman who seemed to be leading the gang, "Overwatch, I presume?"

Winston stepped forward now, not quite venturing beyond Reinhardt's shield, but standing tall enough to make his presence as the leader known, "Who are you?"

The woman chuckled, "I'm Fuse." She motioned to the gang behind her with a nonchalant wave of her hand, "My friends and I are looking for Junkrat. Seen 'im?"

"Can't say we have," Winston said.

Fuse looked awfully interested in something underneath her nail as she gave a nonchalant shrug, "Hmm. That's too bad. See, I came here to collect the bounty on that fucker's head. But since he's not here, and you are..." she gave the Overwatch agents before her a psychotic grin, "I'll have to settle for whatever it is they'll offer me for your bodies."

The Junker gang laughed, all at once, and proceeded to march toward them, weapons at the ready.


	4. The Claw of the Beast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am TERRIBLE at writing fight scenes, so...sorry.
> 
> This chapter took forever to get to this point, and while I still don't feel like it's really right, I'm just kinda done with it at this point. I just wanna move on with the story now, so I'm posting this as is.
> 
> Enjoy!

It had probably been something they should have discussed beforehand, the idea that Junkrat would betray them to someone and run off with whatever money the criminal underground was paying for their heads. But Torbjorn was nothing if not a subtle man, so he didn't say anything.

Right away.

"This was all a bad idea," he stated only a few seconds after the Junker gang had begun their decent upon them, allowing his friends time to process what was going on before he spoke, "All of it. We should never have come here." He began to set up the turret he had with him; it was a good thing he'd gone against his initial instincts to set it up closer to the dropship, otherwise he wouldn't have it with him now.

A couple of the Junkers suddenly bum rushed the shield, throwing all their weight against it and forcing Reinhardt to push back against them in an effort to keep them at bay. Others began firing on the shield, trying to break it, while still more split up to try to rush around and flank. McCree tossed a flashbang at one Junker, disorienting her long enough for him to roll away from her companion's gunfire and shoot back. Mercy, meanwhile, ducked in behind a wall and helped give a boost to Pharah's rocket launcher so she could do more damange; she desperately wished Pharah would join her behind cover. As it stood, the woman simply began firing at the gang from her place behind Reinhardt's shield, sending those she didn't immediately hit running for cover. It was just reaching the early morning hours, and the sky to the east was beginning to lighten a bit, but the area around them was still dark, aside from the old street lamps that barely worked.

From the darkness, more Junkers began to emerge.

"Fareeha, get behind something!" Mercy yelled, forsaking the codenames in favor of showing her sheer panic. There had to be sixty or seventy of these people, just coming out of the darkness like cockroaches.

Pharah didn't listen until Reinhardt's shield went down, and then dove into cover beside Mercy, pushing the older woman back farther behind the wall. Mei sent up an ice wall from her thermoptic blaster immediately, and to the gang's surprise, in place of Reinhardt's shield, allowing everyone time to run for cover behind something else; one Junker failed to move out of the way of the wall in time and was blasted into the air by its sudden appearance under his feet, quite amusingly. McCree dragged Mei with him behind a car, while Torbjorn ducked behind his own turret for cover. Tracer took cover behind an old phone booth (and was seriously amazed this thing even existed anymore, cool!), while Winston brought himself up next to Reinhardt and steeled himself for battle. Mei's wall fell to the pressure of the Junkers' weapons, and Winston brought out his barrier before jumping headlong into the nearest group of gang members, using his Tesla cannon to dispurse them. Reinhardt tossed a Firestrike from his hammer into another small group trying to go after Tracer, knocking them away from her.

"FIRE IN THE HOLE!"

There was little warning between the raucous call and the sudden revving of a motor engine, and even less warning between that and when a large tire fell into the Junkers' backline and exploded, leaving devastation in its wake. For a few precious moments, everything seemed to stop while everyone processed what had just happened.

An explosive tire had just fallen from the third story window of a package and shipping plant directly at the Junker gang's rear.

No one took long to figure out what that meant.

Junkrat and Roadhog were still here.

Fuse suddenly let out a primal scream, rage turning her face a bright red to match her hair, "FIND THAT FUCKER!" she screamed, "KILL THEM ALL! ALL OF THEM!!"

About a dozen of the Junkers split off from the main group and rushed toward the building Junkrat had to be hiding in, while the rest turned their attention to the still dazed Overwatch agents. The group that had rushed Reinhardt's shield tried to jump him all at once, which was a decision they immediately came to regret when he wolloped them all with his hammer without hesitation and charged headlong at a very quick speed into the main group. This knocked whomever he hadn't managed to run over spinning head over heels into the air. Winston followed suit, hoping to take out anyone who thought to jump Reinhardt from behind.

Torbjorn, meanwhile, had managed to get his turret up and firing, which caused many of the Junkers to run for cover before they were riddled with bullets. Pharah scattered a few with a well-timed concussion blast, saving Torbjorn from being jumped by a group of three, and Mei had managed to literally freeze some of them where they stood, keeping them from attacking at all. She said something in Mandarin, quite possibly a curse if Pharah knew the woman as well as she thought she did, and tossed the little robot at her back into the group who had now managed to overwhelm Reinhardt and Winston; the little robot immediately went to work, creating a literal mini blizzard around it for a few yards, freezing whoever was caught there into little human popsicles.

McCree, meanwhile, had been jumped by a wisp of a woman, who'd managed to get a hold of one of his flashbangs and made use of it against him; she leveled a weapon that would have been too heavy for most men twice her size to hold upright at his head....

Then she crumpled to the ground in a heap, draped over her own weapon.

Tracer stood behind her, gave McCree a little wink and a wave, and dashed off after having quite literally saved his life.

Explosions rang out from inside the packaging plant in which Junkrat and Roadhog were hiding out, and catcalls and cursing could be heard next. Whatever was happening inside that plant, it wasn't good; someone had just gotten hurt.

A big part of Winston actually hoped it wasn't either Junkrat or Roadhog.

"We need to get in there!" Winston called out to anyone who could hear him, sweeping one arm aside to knock a man into a nearby wall before he could shoot at the still-dazed McCree, "Junkrat and Roadhog are inside that building!"

"I've got it, Winston!" Tracer called, before dashing off.

Well, that hadn't been what he'd had in mind.

"Tracer, wait, no!" he managed to yell before Tracer darted off. He hadn't wanted her to go in alone; there were dozens of people inside that building who didn't care whether she lived or died, and more rushing in behind. She couldn't take them all on alone....

"Go!" Reinhardt called from beside him, "I've got this, my friend, go help her!"

Winston didn't need to be told twice.

With a grunt, he used the boosters at the back of his suit to launch himself into the air above the Junker gang and land at the door of the building, scattering anyone who'd been standing in front of the now destroyed doorframe. They began to shoot at him, but he threw up one arm to protect himself from the brunt of most of the damage, threw out his shield generator again to cover his rear, and rushed inside after his friend.  
__________________________________________________________________________________

Tracer had taken the opportunity to rush around the back of the building and enter from behind, which was something none of the Junkers had seemed to think about doing.

Well, none of them except Junkrat and Roadhog.

Judging by the damage to the back door, this had been exactly how they'd entered the building, via almost literally blowing it up. Tracer scoffed with mild disgust; this place was still operating, people still worked here. All they were doing was trying to make a living, and these two idiots _had_ to go blow it up.

Typical.

Why were they trying to save these guys again?

The door opened up into a tiny storage room packed with shelves covered in papers, boxes, old electronics, cleaning supplies, and general junk. The single hanging lightbulb was the only source of any light inside the room and had probably been responsible for the glow Tracer had seen from the outside.

She made her way past the piles of junk to the door that led out into a main office room, scattered here and there with desks that had now been destroyed. Two Junkers, a man and a woman, were inside the room, throwing things around and laughing as they did so, causing general destruction. At one point, the woman turned to the man and just started vigerously making out with him, mentioning how all of this was really turning her on. Tracer stared at the two in disgust.

Ew. Just, no.

The man was rather short, lean, and covered in tattoos. The woman was tall, with a shaved head and was wearing just the bare minimum of clothing.

Both had just managed to see Tracer before she could close the door to the storage room and duck behind a shelf.

"Come out, dearie," the woman called in a raspy, sing-song voice after she kicked the door in, "We won't hurt you. Much." She launched herself around the shelf Tracer had been hiding behind, with a victorious, "Ha! Found ya!"

Except that no one was there.

Instead, Tracer was behind the woman's companion.

"Hiya!" she said in a chipper tone, surprising them both into turning around. With a grunt and all the strength she could muster, she shoved the man backward into his little girlfriend; Tracer wasn't a strong girl, but she had the element of surprise this time, and it had actually worked. He fell backwards into his friend, and they both fell back into the shelf, knocking it over and entangling themselves in the junk that had fallen on top of them.

Tracer darted off before they even knew what had hit them.

She ran headlong into an out of breath Winston shortly after.

"Winston, what are you doing in here?"

"Wha...coming after you, Tracer. There are way too many people in here for you to take on alone."

"What about everyone else?"

It was a valid question. At this point, Winston and Tracer were risking not only their lives, but the lives of their friends by leaving them alone to pursue and save Junkrat. Winston had to admit that he wasn't sure it was worth it, in the end.

They could just go back outside and beat a hasty retreat back to the dropship....

From above them, echoing down through the building's stairways, Winston could hear muffled yelling and more gunfire. He recognized the rage-filled, high pitched voice of Fuse, who was apparently screaming orders to her men.

Dammit. They couldn't just leave him here.

They'd come all this way. They had to help.

"Come on," Winston said, and began to lead the way up the stairs. He'd taken out at least ten people to get inside this damned building, and he wasn't going to leave without the answers he desperately needed now.

He wasn't leaving without Junkrat and Roadhog.

Tracer beat him up the stairs, but stopped at the top to peek around the corner and down the hallway. Doors lined the hall, and at the very end, Fuse stood with a dozen men or more; someone was setting explosives onto the door at the end of the hall.

"End of the line, asshole," Fuse was saying, "I don't know what the fuck you were trying to accomplish with the clowns outside, but they can't save you. They're all fucking dead like you will be in about six seconds."

Tracer couldn't understand the muffled reply that came from inside the room Fuse was about to blow her way into, but she could certainly hear the vitriol intended.

Winston came up behind Tracer at that point and looked around the corner at Fuse and her men. "Is Junkrat in that room?" he whispered.

Tracer nodded, "I think so."

"You have a plan?"

"Not really, no."

"Winging it again, I take it?"

Tracer gave a shrug and a little smirk, "Worked at the museum, didn't it?"

Winston scoffed, "Barely."

"Let's make sure it barely works again, then, hmm?" Tracer said with a wink, then stepped out of the stairway into the hall, "Hey! Fuse, was it? Leave him alone."

Fuse's attention immediately turned to Tracer and she let out a horrendous, screechy laugh, "What the fuck are you gonna do, little girl, hmm?" She quickly began to march down the hallway toward Tracer with a cocky grin, "All by yerself, no one to help ya. Your friends are dead, bitch. You can't win this."

Just as she came face to face with Tracer, Winston popped out from the stairway and slammed Fuse backwards out of Tracer's face, then sideways into the wall, dazing her and leaving a good sized, human shaped dent where she'd hit. The men who'd been watching Fuse threaten Tracer suddenly jumped into action and rushed them, but one quick shot from the Tesla took five of them down real quick. Tracer tossed a pulse bomb toward the others, and they scattered; one did an amusing little dance before throwing himself headfirst into a door to get away, while the others ran down the hall. The bomb went off and, while it didn't actually kill anyone, it did wonders for sending them scattering; anyone caught in the concussion blast was knocked out cold.

"That was surprisingly easy..." Winston muttered.

"Too easy, right?" Tracer asked, looking up at him.

Winston said nothing, but gave a little nod before heading down the narrow hallway toward the door Fuse had been ready to blow.

It took nothing for him to knock the door off its hinges and get inside the room.

And inside, sure enough, were Junkrat and Roadhog, a little beaten up, to be sure, but none the worse for wear.

"Well, it certainly took ya long enough!" Junkrat yelped when Winston came through the door, "They were gonna kill me."

"Yeah, I just might kill you myself if you don't start explaining just what the hell is going on here," Winston growled back. The response seemed to put Roadhog on edge; he stepped in front of his companion slightly to separate him from Winston.

"Calm yerself, monkey, I can explain," Junkrat said, raising his hands as if to placate Winston, "Fuse and her gang? Not part of the plan, I didn't even know they were here 'til they tracked us to this building, yeah?"

The smile on Junkrat's face made Winston just want to punch him, "I doubt that."

Junkrat chuckled, "Nah, mate, I'm serious. I didn't know she was here. I tried to help ya, that tire? That was me. It was tryin' ta get the lot of 'em off yer men, right? It worked, for a bit, 'til they came up here, but whatever. It worked."

"Why did you call us here?"

"I'm in trouble, mate."

"Yeah, I can see that. Why call us?"

"Nah, they're not the trouble. I mean, they didn't start out as the trouble, really. They just kinda fell into this..."

"You should probably start making sense at some point," Tracer chimed in now, "Our friends are downstairs trying to save your arse."

Junkrat nodded, and gave a little giggle, "I truly did not expect that, you know. Didn't think that'd work, the whole bank thing. That was Roadie's idea--"

"Talk!" Winston yelled now; the firefight seemed to be calming down outside, and with Junkrat and Roadhog standing in front of the window, Winston couldn't see who was winning. It worried him.

"Talon is the real threat here, mate," Junkrat said with a shrug, "They're the ones I called you about, not this mess."

"Talon?"

"Talon. They're after me."

"Why would Talon be after you?"

Junkrat shrugged with a psychotic grin and spread his arms out wide, "Treasure, mate. I have something they want. I'm not willin' to give it to 'em."

As if on cue, a dropship suddenly descended from the sky, lighting up the area outside the building, and Talon agents burst through the window at Junkrat's back, sending the man sprawling forward into Roadhog's side. Both men ran forward toward Tracer and Winston, who had covered their faces to avoid being hit with flying glass.

From the darkness to Winston's left, a figure began to form with a terrifying chuckle, and the Reaper stepped out into the light to surround himself with his agents.

"Monkey," he muttered in his deep, reverberating voice, "You're always where you shouldn't be, sticking your stupid nose where it doesn't belong." He chuckled and motioned to the agents at his back, then pointed directly at Junkrat, "The only one I need alive is that one. The rest you can kill."


	5. Missed It By That Much

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter.
> 
> It absolutely REFUSED to be written, while at the same time keeping me from sleep until it was written.
> 
> I'm tired. :(

The threat of death immediately set Winston's fur on edge and before he knew what he was doing, he flung himself at Reaper. He collided with the man and the two went tumbling out the already broken window, disappearing as they headed toward the pavement below.

"Winston!" Tracer yelped as she headed for the window to make sure her friend was okay. She was grabbed along the way by one of the masked agents who had been flanking Reaper and was shoved back against the nearest wall. With a little growl, she recalled herself back to her postion beside Junkrat and Roadhog and drew her pistols, "Stay off me!"

Junkrat took one moment to give her a confused and slightly terrified glance before wantonly shooting off a few grenades in the hopes to drive the agents off. This sent both Tracer and Roadhog scrambling out of the room for cover to avoid being hit by one of the bouncing explosive projectiles. Junkrat followed close behind them, slamming the door on the two men inside as they danced around to avoid being touched by what were essentially live explosives. As soon as the door closed behind Junkrat, the room went up in smoke and flames; anyone inside either went up with it or risked a three story jump to the ground below. The pressure from the explosion sent Junkrat reeling backward a bit, but he was steadied by Tracer, who grabbed him by the arm and took off down the hall, Roadhog behind her.

"Oi!" Junkrat yelped, "Leggo!"

"We're getting out of here," Tracer retorted, "You can either join us, or stay here with Talon."

Junkrat shrugged, "I'm gonna choose you, obviously, I'm not dumb, but stop dragging me around like that!"

Tracer let go of the Junker's arm without a word and continued on down the hallway at a brisk pace. Just before reaching the doorway that led to the stairwell, she was taken by surprise by a fist slamming into the side of her face, sending her sprawling against the far wall, where she landed firmly on her butt. Dazed, she rubbed her cheek and looked up to try to get a good look at who had just hit her.

Fuse stood over her, bruised and with blood running down the side of her face, one arm held against her as though trying to cradle it from pain; the arm was probably broken, judging by the awkward way it hung from her shoulder. She was not in a good mood, it seemed.

"Where's yer _pet_?" she taunted, her voice a low hiss.

"Listen to me," Tracer said, holding her hands out in front of her in a calming fashion, "You have to get out of here. Talon's here, and they will kill you."

"As long as they give me enough time to kill you, I really don't give a damn," Fuse hissed again, spittle flying from her mouth as she spoke and landing on Tracer's face. Ew.

Tracer wasn't entirely sure she could win a one on one fight with this woman; in all honesty she expected Junkrat would try to sneak by and leave while a fight was going on rather than help her out. She could run, she supposed. There would be no way in hell Fuse could catch up to her once she blinked away. But then she'd be leaving Junkrat behind to deal with this mess, and she couldn't do that. Deep down, she'd already made a promise to herself that she would help Junkrat, despite all odds. She'd told herself that the second Talon came bursting through that window. She couldn't go back on that promise.

She never broke her promises.

As it turned out, she didn't have to.

Winston wasn't the only large, immovable force on Tracer's side in this fight, it seemed. Roadhog had taken it upon himself to jump Fuse while she loomed over Tracer, tossing the woman right back into the indentation she'd left on the wall when Winston had shoved her earlier. He rammed her against the wall a few times until she was either dead or knocked out (Tracer honestly hoped for dead, at this point, if only because waking up from that would be pretty painful), then turned to Tracer without any hint of emotion. Behind him, Junkrat was cheering his companion on, giggling like mad the whole time.

"This is why I keep him around, mate."

"You showing us the way out, or what?" Roadhog finally said, his voice a booming echo in the long hallway despite the fact that he wasn't actually talking all that loudly.

Tracer nodded and got to her feet; there would be time to nurse the bruise forming on her face later. She led the Junker duo down the stairs and out the same way she'd come in, through that back door.

"The dropship is that way," Tracer said, pointing to where the top of the ship could barely be seen between the buildings, "Go there, we'll be there when we can, to get you out."

"What, you're not coming, mate?" Junkrat hissed in a tone that actually betrayed a bit of worry; whether he was worried for his own safety or her's, Tracer wasn't sure.

She shook her head, "My friends are still here, I can't just leave them. We'll keep Talon off you long enough for you to get away."

Roadhog shook his head, "No."

"Look, I'm not going to--"

"You're fast," Roadhog stated as a matter of fact, "And you can fly the ship?"

Tracer gave a slow nod, "Yes..."

"Go, then. Get the ship, bring it back," Roadhog said, his eyes never once leaving the alleyway, beyond which gunfire could be heard, "We'll help your friends, best we can."

Both Junkrat and Tracer looked at Roadhog as if he'd grown a second head on his chest.

"We'll what, mate?"

"You heard me."

Junkrat raised his bushy eyebrows at his companion in surprise. Roadhog simply stared down at him, expression unreadable through the mask. The two seemed to be having a silent converesation as they stared each other down, each daring the other to back down first.

In the end, Roadhog won.

Junkrat let out a sigh and visibly slumped, "Fine." He turned to Tracer, "Get back to your ship, girlie, and be ready to pick up some baggage, yeah?"

Tracer glanced between the two Junkers and swallowed hard. She wasn't entirely sure she could trust them, but at the same time going back to get the ship would be their best bet. For the moment, from what she could see beyond the alleyway, Talon seemed preoccupied with what remained of the Junker gang; the gang was apparently too stupid to realize they were in very real danger and had decided to attack Talon. She couldn't see where her friends had gone, and could only hope they were all still alive. If she could get to the ship, get it back here, pick them all up....

It was a slim shot, but it was their only chance.

Leave, before they had to fight again.

The only problem was, the idea rested on the shoulders of the two Junkers standing in front of her, and she didn't like that idea much.

"We do this quiet," she finally said, "Don't go causing any unnecessary chaos --" this statement caused Junkrat to slump even further -- "Just get my friends to a safe place and get out." She sighed, thinking things over, "Tell Winston to contact me via radio with the coordinates once you're all safe, got it?"

Roadhog nodded, "Gotcha."

Tracer stretched her neck to one side, then the other, "It won't take me long. Remember, find them, get them out."

She didn't wait for a second confirmation before she took off running, blinking whenever she could, toward the dropship. Her stomach was in her chest; she was literally trusting the lives of her friends to two confirmed psychopaths she'd never met before.

What could possibly go wrong?

She reached the ship in record time and swung herself inside, barely waiting for the door to close before dragging it up into the air and turning it around to head back toward the battle-torn block of road. Overwatch's ship was small, but it wasn't exactly going to be an easy fit to put it between the buildings there. It would be a close one, to be sure.

"Tracer?"

Winston's voice over the comms, confirming that he was alive and well, made Tracer tear up with relief.

"Winston! Are you okay? Where's everyone else?"

"We're all okay. Injured, but alive. Junkrat and Roadhog got us out of the main battle. Said you were coming to meet us."

"I am," Tracer said, chuckling with relief, "I'm coming, where are you?"

"Petrol station a block down," Winston replied, "I have a flare, let me know if you need me to set it off."

Hopefully she wouldn't, that would bring Talon down on them all, "I think I should be fine, Winston. I'm coming."

It took her a few minutes of flying in circles to find the gas station Winston had been talking about. They must have finally turned on the old signs to make it easier to see, because she could have sworn it hadn't been there during her last pass over that area. The station was only a block away from Talon's dropship, literally right around the corner. She'd need to land, quick and quiet, and get everyone on board before Talon finished with the Junker gang.

She landed the ship in what had once probably been a dirt lot across the small two lane road from the gas station and opened the doors to the ship. Before the door could even hit the ground, she caught glimpse of her friends heading toward her.

Injured had been the word Winston had used.

It was...apt.

Pharah and Torbjorn were leaning against Mercy and McCree, respectively, to move toward the dropship, while Reinhardt, in his dented armor, limped along behind them. Mei seemed to be helping Winston stay upright, though it was hard seeing as she was so much shorter than he was and she seemed to be bleeding from a wound on her arm. McCree was sporting a new head wound with a nice shiner to accompany it. The only one among them who didn't look completely torn up was Mercy, who looked like she'd simply woken up on the wrong side of the bed that morning.

Leading them all from the station to the ship were two men Tracer had never before thought she could trust.

"Found yer friends, girlie," Junkrat stated, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at them as if Tracer couldn't see, "They're a bit worse for wear, but they're alive."

"Where'd Reaper go?" Tracer asked Winston as she moved toward his other side to help Mei steady him.

"I don't know," Winston muttered, "He disappeared when we hit the ground, but he's probably coming back. He always seems to come back."

The chuckle from the shadows was probably all they needed to make that point fair, but Reaper decided to speak to them too, in case it wasn't clear, "I'm hard to kill."

He virtually manifested himself beside Junkrat, who yelped and jumped back behind Roadhog. Roadhog drew an absolutely massive gun from the holster at his back and levelled it at Reaper, who didn't even so much as flinch.

"I just fell three stories and landed under a gorilla," Reaper said, motioning toward Winston, "You really think that's going to kill me?"

"Maybe not," Roadhog said with a shrug, "but it'll sure as hell hurt."

Then he fired on the Reaper.

Or rather, he fired at where the Reaper had been standing.

With a small gasp of realization, Tracer lunged forward and grabbed Junkrat, pulling him away from Roadhog just as Reaper manifested himself behind them. Reaper drew his shotguns from inside his coat and fired at Roadhog. One round hit the man in the back, sending Roadhog forward with a small cry of pain and anger.

The other shot didn't have time to land because, at the very moment Reaper fired, Roadhog moved faster than anyone would have guessed someone so large was capable of, and backhanded Reaper to the ground. The dazed man hit the ground, growled, and got back to his feet.

He disappeared in a cloud of black smoke and reappeared behind Roadhog once again, taking aim to fire...

McCree came out of nowhere, tackled Reaper to the ground like a linebacker, and began trying to wrestle the gun from his hands. Reaper shoved McCree back off of him with surprising strength and got to his feet. He reached into his coat to replace the guns he'd dropped when McCree had tackled him, and pointed them directly at McCree.

"It's very simple," Reaper said, voice a low, gutteral growl, "Hand over the rat, and I won't kill you."

"Sounds like a fib to me," McCree said through gritted teeth, anger dripping from every word.

Reaper chuckled, "I don't fib, boy."

"Not. Gonna. Happen." McCree said, ennunciating very clearly so as to get the point across.

Reaper growled and his hands tensed on his guns, but he hesitated for a moment.

Only for a moment.

That was all it took.

From somewhere above them, a figure dropped to the ground and slashed at Reaper with a sword. Reaper took the full brunt of the weapon to the chest and fell backward with a surprised grunt, dropping his own weapons in favor of keeping himself balanced.

The figure stood upright and stepped into the light. The man was a cyborg, sword drawn and at the ready, in case of another attack.

"Genji!" Mercy called out, her voice a breathless cry.

"Genji??" Tracer echoed, her voice full of confusion.

Genji spared one glance in Mercy's direction and gave her a nod, "I got your call, Angela. I hope I'm not too late."

Mercy gave him a smile that could melt the coldest of hearts, "You're right on time."

Beside her, Pharah gave a jealous frown.

An explosion from the battle down the block shook the ground, and made all of them turn to see what was happening. The Talon dropship, which was large enough to be seen above the buildings, had burst into flame and the jet fuel inside was starting to blow up. Though he was wearing a mask, Reaper's frustration was very evident.

His men had just lost to a bunch of Junkers with homemade weapons.

He tilted his head to one side, as though listening for something, and then he spoke, "This isn't over." He disappeared in a wisp of black smoke and slithered off into the shadows.

And Overwatch was left standing beside their dropship.

They were injured, tired, broken, and angry.

But they were alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the deus ex machina at the end there. I had a million ways to introduce Genji into the story, and none of them involved him just falling out of nowhere and saving McCree. But those millions of ways involved drawing this fight out longer than the three chapters it was already taking up, so I just did it this way.
> 
> Mercy called him. He came. End of story.
> 
> I might explain it a bit in the next chapter, if I find a way to do it.


	6. Untitled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't think of a title for this chapter, so it's cleverly named "Untitled," because I wanted that Chapter Title section filled. Sue me.

The flight back to Sweden was a slow and grueling one, with so many injured in the back of that plane; Angela ran from person to person, working on patching them all up with a combination of her staff and a small supply of medical equipment stockpiled in the dropship's cockpit. Genji acted as a nurse and followed her around the plane, handing her whatever she needed and offering general support where he could.

Once they got back to the Watchpoint, Angela herded them all into the medical bay so they could receive proper medical attention.

Of all the injuries sustained, only Fareeha's and Torbjorn's were bad enough to warrant an extended stay in the med bay; Torbjorn loudly protested this and even tried to leave, but was eventually coerced into staying in bed when Angela promised to make him anything he wanted to eat. Fareeha, to Angela's surprise, quietly agreed to stay as long as was needed, adding that she trusted the good doctor to make that decision.

Roadhog had been treated for his injuries and was currently in an isolation ward, where he could be watched by Overwatch while still being taken care of by Angela. Junkrat, despite his objections, was being kept in a cell until everything could be sorted out.

And that was where McCree found him, an hour after they'd landed back at the Watchpoint.

The Junker was sitting down on the cot inside the cell, but he was fidgeting, picking at his nails and pulling his hair. He had the look of someone who just couldn't turn off, that crazed look people often got when they were overwhelmed with something. Like his mind never shut down and he couldn't stop thinking.

"Knock, knock," McCree said quietly, so as to gain the Junker's attention without disturbing him.

Junkrat looked up at McCree, his face splitting into a wild and completely unreadable grin, "Ah, visitors!" he said, jumping to his feet, "What brings you down to the brig to visit little ol' me, hmm?"

"I got some questions for ya."

"I'm sure you do, mate."

"If I come in there, you gonna blow me up?"

Junkrat motioned to himself, to show he'd already been relieved of any and all weapons on his person, "I'm empty, mate. Your friends took all my stuff. Unless you're worried I got a bomb shoved up me arse, I'm sure you're fine."

"Wasn't worried about that 'til just now, but all right."

He shut off the photon barrier protecting the entrance to the cell and stepped inside, making sure to keep himself between the Junker and freedom the whole time. He was sure Junkrat wouldn't get too far, what with the fake leg and the hobble and all, but he wasn't willing to take any chances.

"You got questions for me, mate, or you just gonna stand there admirin' the goods?"

McCree, despite himself, chuckled, "I s'pose I gotta start with the obvious: why are Talon after ya?"

Junkrat shrugged, "I got somethin' they want."

"Why not just give it to 'em?"

"It's mine, mate. I'm not one to share."

"Can you tell me what it is?"

"Treasure."

"What kind of treasure?"

"The kind that makes one very rich."

McCree stopped there and looked Junkrat up and down, raising an eyebrow, "Talon don't usually care about being rich, kid. They participate in little things like things like political assasinations, torture, and murder. They're not the treasure huntin' type. Not unless it's something dangerous."

Junkrat considered this for a moment, then nodded, "Good point. Let's just say, this treasure can make one rich or powerful depending on the person who gets their hands on it. Maybe both."

"What is it?"

"Ah, see...that, I cannot tell you."

McCree sighed, "If we're gonna protect you, we need to know what we're protectin'."

"Information," Junkrat said, spreading his arms wide, "I have valuable information that can lead anyone who gets it to a very powerful, possibly dangerous treasure. Now, I can't tell you what it is, but I can assure you it is very much worth your time."

"I don't believe you."

"Really?"

"Really. I think you just got in too deep with something you shouldn't have been involved in, and pissed off Talon somehow."

Junkrat shrugged, "I pissed them off by not sharing. I told ya that."

"If you're telling me the truth Junkrat, then you need to know one thing," McCree said, stepping closer to the younger man and pushing the bridge of his hat up so their eyes could meet, "if Talon is after you for whatever this powerful, valuable, dangerous treasure is, then so are organizations like Vishkar or Lumerico. Powerful people with endless resources who eventually get what they want in the end because they can pay for it."

Junkrat furrowed his brow, "Your point being?"

"You came to us. Overwatch. An organization that is currently being operated by vigilantes and not funded by any major government." He paused, taking a moment for that to sink in, "We don't have the resourses to protect you, kid, if we don't actually know why we're protecting you. Now I want you to stop playing games. Games is what got us into this mess. If you had just told us from the beginning Talon was involved, we would have come prepared and no one would have gotten hurt."

"No one died," Junkrat said with a nonchalant shrug.

He let out a little yelp when McCree shoved him into the far wall of the cell, his own mechanical arm pressed firmly in the spot between Junkrat's chest and neck, "They could have kid, because you fucked with us. Instead of tellin' the truth, comin' out clean, you played a game. Now, I'm tired of the games. What, exactly is Talon after?"

Junkrat swallowed hard and gave McCree a stern look, "I stole it from the Omnium in Australia. It's Omnic. The treasure, it's omnic. I dunno what it does, but it's enough that Talon wants it." He looked McCree dead in the eyes then and said, "That's all I can tell you, I'm sorry."

Those were the first genuine words McCree had heard out of the kid's mouth since they'd put his talkative ass on that dropship.

"Can't tell me what it is?"

Junkrat shook his head, "Nope."

After a few moments, McCree let out a sigh and released Junkrat, stepping back and adjusting his shirt, "Fine. I'll let Winston know."

He turned to leave, but was stopped short by Junkrat, "Wait."

McCree turned, certain the kid was going to ask to leave the cell, which was something he couldn't do until they were certain they could trust him. Instead, Junkrat asked, "How's Roadhog?"

Again, the words, and the emotion behind them, were genuine.

McCree gave the Junker a small nod, "He's fine. Dr. Zeigler's takin' good care of him."

"She's a good doctor, then?"

McCree offered Junkrat a small, comforting grin, "The best. Wouldn't trust anyone else with my life. Or the lives of my friends."

Junkrat seemed to consider this for a moment, then gave a little nod as if to say thanks. McCree nodded in return and left, putting the barrier up and trapping the Junker inside the cell once again.  
__________________________________________________________________________________

If there was one thing Fuse hated more than losing a fight she should have won, it was losing the men under her leadership.

She'd lost both.

She couldn't figure out how her gang, armed with more numbers, more weapons, and the element of surprise, had lost to a group of maybe seven people. So what if one of those people had been a fucking giant wearing battle armor and another had been a literal monkey (seriously, what was that about?), they should have won that fight. Based on sheer numbers alone, they should have won that fight.

And yet, they hadn't.

She'd been knocked out cold, her arm broken, her shoulder dislocated, and with a concussion and bruises to show for it. Those of her men who hadn't been killed had ran off with injuries, trying to save themselves and their friends, understandably. Quite frankly, she'd probably almost died, thanks to fucking Roadhog and Junkrat jumping to that little skinny twat's defense. Since when did they fall to the goodie-goodie side?

But she hadn't died, that much was obvious. She'd been awoken by one of her men who'd been inside the building with her when the twat and her pet had attacked them. He said the skinny bitch had dropped a bomb that they'd been forced to run from, taken Junkrat, and left.

Then Talon attacked.

Fuse and her comrade had climbed down the stairs to the main floor -- slowly, since they were both injured -- and had gone out the back door into the alleyway with the intention of running off. As much as it pained her, Fuse had to believe that any of her men left on that street were already dead or would be soon; they couldn't be saved, and she needed to go.

She needed to live.

They'd been jumped in the alley by two men in Talon uniforms, and those two men had been attacked by two shadowed figures who had taken them out rather quickly. One of those figures, a woman, had told Fuse and her companion to run while the man in the duo, a creepy guy wearing a glowy, face obscuring mask, beat the ever loving shit out of the Talon guys. Fuse, despite herself, had taken the opportunity to follow that advice.

Soon after, the Talon ship had exploded.

Fuse could only imagine the shadowed figures had done that.

When she'd met up with what remained of her men at their camp an hour later, she was angry to discover that only twenty three of the original sixty five had survived enough to get out.

Only twenty three of the men who had trusted her with their lives actually _had_ their lives anymore.

Fuse _hated_ losing those under her command.

She'd put this community together. She'd protected them. She'd helped them grow. They'd relied on her for everything, they'd looked to her for orders, they'd trusted her with their lives.

And she'd lost them.

She would _never_ forgive the people who'd made her break her promises.

The Junker camp had been set up in the outskirts of the city, in an open field surrounded by trees. The people who had survived the night were assessing injuries, using whatever resources they had to help each other; none of them were doctors by any means, so it was slow, painful going.

They'd have to kidnap a doctor later to help with the worst of it, Fuse supposed.

For now, it was easy enough for her second in command -- who'd thankfully survived the fight -- to reset her shoulder and set the arm. They had to move on, find a way to get their hands on some money and some decent help.

More importantly, they had to find a way to get back at the assholes who had caused all of this.

If she'd just been allowed to leave with Junkrat, if they hadn't kept him from her, no one would have gotten hurt. She was nothing if not reasonable, to a certain point, and she would have been perfectly willing to let the creepy talking monkey and his crew who go if they would have just left without the rat.

Instead, they fought back, and she'd lost men.

They hadn't lost anything.

She wanted to change that.

For now, though, she figured she could take out her frustrations on the pair of campers her scouts had reported seeing taking cover in an old cabin a bit to their south. They hadn't done anything, sure, but they probably had money. And if they didn't have money, they had supplies. Hell, maybe one of them had medical knowledge. If they fought back, Fuse and her men would fight.

Twenty three against two was hardly fair, really.

But quite frankly, Fuse was done with fair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will say this much: the duo who jumped to Fuse's defense and beat up the Talon agents? We know them.
> 
> Anyone who correctly guesses who they are gets a cookie! <3


	7. A Matter of Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congrats to Aleno on correctly answering the question I posed at the end of the last chapter. You get cookies!
> 
> This took forever, because...well, writer's block. It sucks, and I have it. So enjoy!

He'd _hesitated._

It hadn't been a subtle thing, either; the agents had to have noticed it themselves. He'd been ready to shoot the cowboy and instead he'd _hesitated._

And Widowmaker was furious.

She'd seen the whole thing from her quiet perch atop one of the nearby billboards. She'd been calmly sitting there all night, watching everything go down. It was from this sign where she'd shot down the falcon and her little pet angel before they could properly get the lay of the land. She hadn't missed, of course; if she'd meant to kill them, she would have done it. As she'd told Reaper several times in the last few hours, it had been a warning shot, meant to divert their attention away from the task at hand and onto...other matters.

She hadn't missed. She hadn't hesitated.

He had.

The hesitation had been what had allowed them all to get away, scot free, with the Junker in tow. They'd taken Talon's quarry, and left Talon to clean up the mess.

What was it about that cowboy that had stuck with Reaper so? The child had been nothing but a fool in all those years at Blackwatch, and yet just seeing him there seemed to have pulled something that remained of Gabriel Reyes from the Reaper. It was a problem. It needed to be fixed.

But more importantly, they needed to get Junkrat from Overwatch.

A quick overview of Watchpoint: Gibraltar led to the obvious conclusion that no one was there anymore; everything had been shut down, abandoned, or moved somewhere else. It was nothing but a dusty old ruin now, devoid of any of the life it once possessed. If their agents hadn't failed that mission all those months ago, if they hadn't allowed Reaper to be killed that day, it would be devoid of life for an entirely different reason.

Overwatch would be dead.

Instead, they were just gone.

And now Talon had to track them down once again.

And so it was that Widowmaker found herself sitting in a large pristine apartment, overlooking the Sydney skyline. The place was white, completely devoid of color. It surprised the sniper, to be honest; she'd expected at least a little bit of red or black in there. Right now, it looked like something out of a Vishkar company catalogue: clean, white, and new, with nothing out of place. It was a cold and uninviting place, which she didn't mind, but it was too bright; she didn't like to be noticed, and the deep purple of her outfit made her stand out on the white couch she was elegantly draped over. Even the wine she was sipping was white.

It also wasn't very good, which only added to her irritation.

Capping off the tide of things that seemed to make Widowmaker angry tonight was the face on the vid screen she and Reaper were currently speaking to in that bright, white room. Apparently Sombra had some idea for how to find Overwatch's new base of operations.

For her sake, Widowmaker hoped this worked.

"Trust me," the hacker cooed for about the eighth time that night, "I know what I'm doing. Just go to these coordinates tomorrow afternoon, and wait there."

"You could just tell us your plan in full," Widowmaker shot back in her lazy French drawl, "No games. No secrets."

Sombra sent a little wink the sniper's way and lifted a finger, "Ah, ah, ah. That wouldn't be very fun, now, would it?"

"Sombra." Reaper growled. Sombra gave a little shrug.

"Are you going to trust me, or no? Because I have things I have to do, Gabe."

Widowmaker could see Reaper visibly bristle at the use of his old name from where he stood in front of her, "Just send the damn coordinates."

"Sir, yes, sir," Sombra cooed again, giving a mocking little salute accompanied by that stupid, cocky grin. Widowmaker wondered, for about the hundredth time since meeting the hacker, how funny Sombra would find a bullet to the brain.

The coordinates rang through on Reaper's comm device; he quickly looked them over, then sent a piercing gaze back at the monitor on which Sombra's face could be seen, "You're sure?"

Sombra shrugged, "Why wouldn't I be?"

"What are we waiting for there?" Reaper asked.

Sombra winked again, "I'll give you more information once you get there. Don't worry, my friend, I have everything under control."

"Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of..."

If Sombra heard Reaper's comment, she didn't show it, "Listen, I need to go. Gimme a ring when you're at those coordinates, si? I'll see you. Ta."

And with that, the screen went dark.

Widowmaker wondered, not for the first time since meeting the obnoxious hacker, just who's side Sombra was supposed to be on.  
__________________________________________________________________________________

The only reason Mei had joined Overwatch, both times, was to help people.

She'd joined all those years ago to help figure out a solution to climate change, and to put an end to global warming. She wanted to save the environment and the people who lived in it, who thrived on it. She wanted to fight for a better future.

Mei, in short, wanted to be a hero.

It wasn't about fame or popularity, not really. She wanted to make a positive difference in the world, in any way she could. She wanted to say, when all was said and done, that she was there, that she'd helped. She wanted to save the world. And she believed, when she received the recall message from Winston all those months ago, that she could try to do that again.

But so far, the only people they'd managed to help had been people who arguably didn't deserve it.

Winston had decided that keeping Junkrat locked up in a cell did nothing to garner trust with him, and so he allowed the Junker to have limited access to certain areas of the Watchpoint. He'd come to that decision mostly because, by that point, Junkrat had already destroyed the barrier to the cell using a small EMP device stashed away in his prosthetic arm; security had somehow missed this device when they'd searched him and taken his things. He'd made his escape known by wandering the halls until he'd somehow found himself inside Mei's quarters, and had scared the ever loving hell out of her.

She'd knocked him out and run to Winston.

Now the Junker was in the medbay, visiting Roadhog and nursing a newfound bruise on his head. While Mei was certain he wouldn't actually get away with doing anything....unsavory, she still didn't like the idea of leaving Dr. Zeigler in there with both of them alone. Even if Fareeha and Torbjorn were there with her, they wouldn't really be able to do much while injured.

"You really think he'd try anything?" Winston asked, after a long period of silence.

The two were in the science labs. They enjoyed spending time with each other this way, quietly studying things together and discussing their findings with each other. Mei had brought up her concerns during their latest meeting in the labs, and Winston had been quietly considering things for the past several minutes.

Mei offered a shrug and adjusted her glasses, "I don't know. I suppose not, but...I don't trust them."

Winston nodded, "I get that."

"I feel it would be better to keep them contained. At least for now..."

"Mei, he destroyed that door," Winston said, finally turning his attention away from the sample he'd been studying to focus entirely on the much smaller woman before him, "We only have one other accessible cell, and I don't know how to search him for more EMPs without...violating certain human rights."

He was right, she supposed, but still... "We could limit his access to the Watchpoint. Keep him quaranteened to certain areas."

Winston nodded, "We could, but...I kind of feel like he'd blow his way into blocked areas anyway. At least if we give him supervised access to certain areas --"

"He'll still go there without supervision," Mei countered, crossing her arms with a huff, "He's not one to follow rules, really."

And there was the rub. They'd taken in someone they didn't have any reason to trust, and they had no real way to keep him under control. If Junkrat wanted to do something, he would do it. Pesky things like rules and regulations probably wouldn't persuade him from keeping out of trouble.

Still, they had to think of something.

A little while later, Winston announced he was going to go get something to eat, urging Mei to do the same. She promised him she would, in a little while, and continued studying the computer screen on the desk before her. She heard the door to the labs slide open behind her, and assumed it was Winston or someone who knew she was down there, coming to get her for lunch.

Instead, there was an impressed whistle, followed by Junkrat's voice, "This is a nice place, mate."

Mei twirled in her chair to face down the man who had just let himself into her lab. She narrowed her eyes at him, "What are you doing in here?"

Junkrat shrugged, "Explorin'. Saw the door was unlocked, decided to go in."

"Yes, you seem to like doing that," Mei responded, remembering when he'd entered her room a few hours earlier for the same reason, "Don't touch anything."

Junkrat held up his hands, "Not gonna."

"Can I help you...find something in particular?"

There was barely contained irritation in her voice, but Mei had considered that Winston was probably right; they had to earn this man's trust if they were ever going to fully be able to help him. It didn't matter that she didn't trust him.

She had to swallow her pride.

Junkrat smirked at her, "You don't like me."

"You're astute."

"Dunno what that means, but I'll take it as a compliment, mate."

"What do you want?"

Junkrat shrugged, "Just bored, really. Lookin' for shit to blow up."

"Don't blow anything up."

"Aw, you're no fun."

Mei stood from her chair and moved toward him, "Everything in here is very expensive. I would appreciate you not. Touching. Anything."

Junkrat quirked a brow at her, the smirk never leaving his face, "Ooh, yer a firecracker, ain't ya? I like you."

Oh, good. The _criminal_ liked her. Just what she needed right now, "The feeling is not mutual, Junkrat. Please get out."

"Okay, girlie, I'll leave. Any advice on where to go that's not boring?"

"The rec room," Mei snapped, "There's stuff there. Leave."

Junkrat gave a little giggle and moved toward the door, "Alrighty, luv. I get it, I'm goin'."

Just before he reached the door, Mei's compassion won out: the two Junkers had escorted them safely back to the dropship in the middle of a fire fight, and Roadhog had been injured protecting them. It only stood to reason that she at least make sure the big man was okay.

"Wait."

Junkrat stopped hobbling toward the door and turned to face her, looking both amused and mildly puzzled, "Hmm?"

"How's your friend doing?"

"He'll live, luv." Then, after a brief pause, "He always does." He offered her a small wave, "Be seein' ya, yeah?"

Mei certainly hoped she wouldn't be seeing too much of the Junker in the future, that they could keep to their separate corners as much as possible, but she doubted it. So, she just gave a nod and rather rude wave as if trying to shoo him away.

The door slid closed behind him, and Mei was left alone to wonder just what the man had been looking for when he'd walked into that lab.


	8. Trust Issues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just finished this at 2:30 in the morning. Please forgive any spelling errors or whatever, I barely got this chapter written. It's been a very, VERY long week.
> 
> I'm so tired.
> 
> Have some filler content!

Lucio had been playing a video game with Hana when Junkrat walked into the rec room. He asked, with a wild grin, what there was to do in here, then immediately sat on the couch behind Lucio to watch the game. Lucio had introduced himself, and offered to let the Junker play the video game with them. Junkrat had refused politely, but with a curt tone, and had left.

For the next two days, no one saw much of the Junker. A random fire on the outside deck of Hangar B was the only sign that he was even still inside the facility; no one doubted for an instant that he had caused it. When Roadhog was released from the medical bay and shown to a room, Junkrat appeared just in time to claim the room's top bunk.

After that, no one heard from either of them.

A day after Roadhog's release, Fareeha and Torbjorn were allowed to leave the medical bay as well. Fareeha immediately went to talk to Winston, to voice her concerns about allowing Junkrat and Roadhog free access to the facility. Winston explained what he had said to Mei, that treating the Junkers as if they didn't trust them did nothing to help anyone; Fareeha didn't agree. Keeping known criminals from important areas of Overwatch's Watchpoint was the best idea, and punishing any actions the Junkers took to break those restrictions would prove Overwatch's authority over them. Winston didn't agree, however, and it became clear that he wasn't going to change his mind.

So Fareeha went for a walk.

She supposed her irritation and distrust toward the Junkers could have something to do with the fact that, for the past two days, she'd had a perfect view of Angela's office. With that perfect view, she'd been able to watch while Genji visited her; the two always talked and laughed together, acting like best friends. Angela was allowed to have friends, of course. Fareeha couldn't begrudge her that. The woman was friendly, warm, and open, always willing to be there for anyone who needed it. She'd saved Genji's life, all those years ago, so it only stood to reason that he would consider her his best friend. And that was fine. It really was.

Angela's elated, breathless reaction to seeing Genji again was what bothered Fareeha.

For years, Fareeha had harbored a secret crush on Overwatch's head physician. She thought Angela was the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen. She'd figured that, at some point, it was something she'd grow out of; Angela was five years her senior and probably still thought of her as a child. How could she ever consider that small girl as anything other than a friend, maybe a sister...?

Fareeha had returned to Overwatch in her mother's place because she wanted to make a difference and live out a life long dream. It wasn't until she'd seen Angela again after all those years that she realized the good doctor was a big reason for her return as well. She'd wanted to see Angela again, she still held that torch for her. Angela had hugged her when she'd arrived, told her how good it was to see her again, and Fareeha had realized in that moment that what she'd always felt for Angela wasn't some fleeting crush. Deep down, she knew Angela would never see her that way though, and it honestly hurt.

Seeing her with Genji....

It hurt.

For two days, she'd watched the two of them talk and laugh through the window to Angela's office. For two days, she'd watched them reminice. Angela looked so happy, and Fareeha loved that, but...

She was jealous of Genji.

She'd never considered herself a jealous person, by any means. Everything she had, she'd worked hard for, and she felt that way about everything. If someone had something she wanted, she didn't covet it, she worked hard to attain that goal as well.

That was harder to do with a person, however.

Angela was an adult who could make her own decisions, and if that decision wasn't Fareeha then there was nothing she could do about it....

The Junkers were roaming freely around the base with no supervision, and there was nothing she could do about it....

Add to it all the fact that her mother's birthday was coming up....

Six years. It had been six years since her mother had been reported KIA during that fateful mission. Six years since Fareeha mourned her mother, and helped Reinhardt to mourn the woman he loved. She'd lost a huge part of her life that day, and had never truly moved on. The approach of her mother's birthday every year made the whole thing harder, somehow.

She found herself at one of the outdoor balconies beside Hangar H, and just stood there staring at the mountains. It was starting to get colder. Fareeha hated the cold. The leather jacket she was wearing was nice and warm, though, so that helped.

"Ah, Fareeha, my girl," the booming voice from behind her called, filling her with warmth. A smile split across her face as she turned to face Reinhardt, the big man towering over her. He offered her a hug, which she graciously accepted, and joined her at the balcony, "I had heard you were able to leave the med bay. I wanted to come see you."

"I'm glad you found me, then," Fareeha said, gently nudging the big man with her shoulder.

"Are you all right? You seem rather sad."

Fareeha nodded, "Yes. Just...a lot going on, is all."

Reinhardt nodded, his one good eye sweeping out over the mountains that surrounded them, "The Junkers...or Ana?"

Fareeha gave a small, sad chuckle, "Both, actually. And...other things."

She hadn't mentioned her crush on Angela to anyone, even her mother. She found out years later that her mom always knew about it anyway -- she'd taken Fareeha aside just before the mission that took her life and told her to try, or move on, but to stop pining. Her mom had always been great like that, telling her not to pine for things she couldn't have, when she could take the things she could get.

At least try, Fareeha. Try, or move on.

It might be time to move on...

Reinhardt's chuckle broke through her thoughts, "Is this about Angela and Genji, my dear?"

Fareeha blinked and looked up at Reinhardt with surprise, "What?"

"What, you did not think I knew, girl? You mother mentioned it to me a long time ago, about your crush on the good doctor."

"Oh. Oh, good, she told you, did she?"

Reinhardt chuckled, "Yes."

Fareeha shook her head with a sigh. Well, since he already apparently knew....

"She was so happy to see him when he came."

Reinhardt shrugged, "Well, he did arrive at a rather opportune time..."

Fareeha turned around, leaning backward against the rail on her elbows, "Did you see her face, Reinhardt? It was like she'd just seen the love of her life again."

Reinhardt nodded, "I did not see her face, my dear, but I heard her voice."

"She was happy."

"Very happy, yes."

Fareeha gave him a sad smile, "She doesn't get that happy when she sees me. She sees me as that little girl who used to follow her mum around all the time," she shrugged, "I'm not the hero Genji apparently is."

"My dear, you do not need to be a hero to win someone's heart."

"I think I do, to win her's."

They stood in relative silence for a few moments before Reinhardt spoke, "Your mother would have been so proud of you, Fareeha."

Fareeha felt a lump form in her throat, and her eyes began to burn with tears, "I hope so."

"I know so," Reinhart said, placing a massive hand on the girl's shoulder and giving a gentle squeeze, "I know I am. You handled yourself well, in Sydney."

Fareeha gave a scoff, "I nearly blew myself up trying to protect Angela."

"You protected the woman who kept us all alive, Fareeha. There is nothing wrong with that."

"I didn't exactly come across as competent, though."

"Of course you did, my dear. Do not ever do that to yourself. You fought valiantly! You protected your comrades! You got hurt to keep others from getting hurt! You were a true warrior, my dear!" He calmed himself a bit, giving her a wink, "You're an agent of Overwatch now. And you showed it, during that fight."

Fareeha huffed, "What were we fighting for, Reinhardt? Those men are going to destroy us. You know that, right?"

Reinhardt shrugged, "I do not."

"Reinhardt, come on. They're parasites, they're using us for something. They're going to turn on us, or blow the place up, or...rob us, I don't know. They shouldn't be here."

Reinhardt raised his brows at her, giving her a slightly disappointed look, "Fareeha, if they really require our help, then we need to help them."

"Do they, though?"

"I don't know."

"No one knows, because they won't tell us," Fareeha muttered, leaning back against the railing with a sigh, "Junkrat mentions a treasure, but how do we know it actually exists? How do we know he's not working with Talon, or...something, I don't know."

"Fareeha, if they are lying to us, we can handle it. No matter what they bring down upon us, we have the will to fight back against it." His voice dropped to a low rumble, and he gave her a small, knowing smile, "But if they are not lying, and we send them away, and they die...Could we live with that? Could we live, knowing we had the chance to help and we sent them away?"

Fareeha sighed and examined under one nail, "I have a hard time believing my mum would agree with you."

"And why wouldn't she?" Reinhardt asked, his voice going back to it's usual, boistrous roar, "She believed in protecting the innocent, did she not?"

"They're not innocent, Rein, they're criminals."

"Overwatch helps anyone who needs it, Fareeha. Criminal past, or no."

He was right, of course, but she didn't want to admit it. What she wanted to do was get rid of the Junkers and get back to what she remembered Overwatch being before the fall, back when they didn't keep criminals in the lap of luxury.

"We could at least lock them up."

Reinhardt laughed, "We had the skinny one locked up, and he broke the door! He's a wily one, that boy."

"Didn't he also set fire to Hangar B?"

"Yes, I believe he did. We put it out."

The matter of fact tone to his voice, coupled with the small shrug he gave as he spoke, made Fareeha burst out laughing. She wasn't sure what it was about that particular statement, but it was funny. Reinhardt just made things funny. She loved that about him.

"You trust them, then?" she asked, once she'd composed herself."

Reinhardt, who'd just smiled as Fareeha laughed, shook his head, "No, not at all. They need to earn my trust. But we, in turn, need to earn theirs."

"Why would we need to earn their trust?"

"So they will tell us what we need to know, in time."

"What's to know? They have treasure, Talon wants it."

"You're not curious as to what said treasure is?"

Once again, he was right. Fareeha gave a sigh and nodded, "I am. Yeah."

"Hey, Reinhardt!"

Reinhardt and Fareeha turned to face the person who had spoken; Lucio had come outside and was waving in their direction, "Oh, did I interrupt you guys, or...?"

Fareeha gave him a smile, "It's fine, Lucio."

"What is it, my boy?" Reinhardt asked.

Lucio shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets, "Just wanted to know if you'd like me to show you my music collection. You said you were curious, and Lena said you weren't busy, so...you know."

Reinhardt chuckled, "Of course, my boy! As long as you let me show you what real music sounds like in the meantime, yes?"

Lucio snorted, "Yeah, okay, sure."

Reinhardt turned to Fareeha, "You're fine with this?"

Fareeha nodded and gently shoved Reinhardt toward Lucio, "Go play with your friends, old man."

"Old man?"

"Yo, you are old," Lucio said, "But you're still cool, dude."

Fareeha pointed at Lucio, "What he said."

Reinhardt gave a small nod of agreement before allowing Lucio to lead him off toward the living quarters. They disappeared inside, leaving Fareeha out on the balcony alone.  
__________________________________________________________________________________

The campers Fuse's men had tracked down had proven to be less than useless, only really having food the gang could use. What Fuse really wanted, and what no one seemed to have, were medical supplies. They'd been hurting for two days. They had to heal themselves before trying to chase down Junkrat, or no one would come out of the ordeal alive.

So it was that when Fuse's scouts reported having seen two people a quarter of a mile ahead use some kind of biotic device, she became interested. They'd beaten the campers soundly, with no problem at all and taken everything they could get from the unfortunate pair of men. It stood to reason that, despite the fact she'd lost more than half of her men, Fuse could take on a pair of hikers -- or whatever they were -- with little to no issue. All they had to do was catch them off guard...

They wouldn't fail this time.

Fuse needed this win.

So she went with six of her best scouts to see what they were dealing with. The scouts led her a short ways to the north, in a hike that wound up taking nearly forty minutes, to what appeared to be some kind of camp set up by the pair she was stalking.

From the looks of things, it seemed they'd been there a while. They'd even set up a couple of makeshift tents to protect themselves from the elements. The place had been slightly flooded out from the rain the night before, and Fuse could see where the fire had been moved to avoid it being drowned out by the standing water. A small creek ran by them, perfect to use for drinking water. Most important of all, and the first thing that Fuse noticed when she looked over that rock down to the camp below, were the weapons.

Lots of them. Military grade.

Her scouts hadn't thought to mention that?

Whoever these people were, they were more than prepared for trouble. On the one hand, Fuse loved it. Attacking these people would be the most excitement she'd had in the last two days, and it would more than make up for the fight they'd lost in Sydney. However, on the other hand, attacking people who were so obviously prepared for an attack could mean losing more men. Fuse didn't want that.

Next to the large rifle leaning up against a tree close to one of the tents was a belt of grenades filled with liquid of some kind. Fuse recognized the biotic grenades instantly; she'd seen a few of them on the black market, and they sold for a fortune. They were hard to miss. They'd come in handy for healing up the injuries her men had sustained in Sydney (and anything to fix her broken arm would be wonderful at this point), and whatever they didn't use they could sell for a pretty penny. They'd have enough money to hold them off for a very long time.

She wanted those grenades.

The campers, or hikers, or whatever they were seemed to be resting. One person was lying inside one of the tents, their back turned toward the tent's exit. Judging by the large build and squared off shoulders, Fuse assumed it was a man. White hair shone over the collar of his jacket, which boasted a large number 76 on the back. Fuse wouldn't be surprised if this old man could take a punch. He certainly looked like someone who could hold his own in a fight if need be.

Good. So they'd have to take him out first.

Outside the other tent, the second person was cleaning a rifle of some kind. Fuse assumed it was a sniper rifle, due to the sheer length of the thing. The person cleaning it was covered head to toe in loose brown clothing, a hood and long jacket outlined in blue. This person was shorter, sat in a hunched fashion as if trying to hide away. The smoother features and long grey hair gave this person away as a woman.

A man and a woman, both older, both armed. The man would probably be able to fight if he wasn't over powered first. The woman, it seemed, was more of a long range fighter, with that gun. Maybe even a sniper of some kind.

Though Fuse wondered just how good any sniper's aim could actually be when they were sporting an eye patch like that...

The group of Junkers stayed there for nearly a half hour, just watching the old couple. They didn't do much, and what little conversation they had could barely be heard from Fuse's position. Eventually, Fuse and her scouts made the forty minute trek back to their own camp, to formulate a plan of attack.

For the first time in a long time, Fuse was actually confident they would win this one.


	9. A Place To Call Your Own

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has gone through so many different rewrites and edits over the last few days that I'm literally going insane. I'm actually really happy with how this one came out though (unlike the last few chapters), so I'm excited to post it here for you guys.
> 
> I'm also going to start trying to reply to as many of the comments as I can. Normally I'd just leave a like or something to let a commenter know I've seen it and appreciate their feedback, but I haven't seen a way to do that here, so. Replying it is!

Sombra _hated_ Vishkar.

Well, Sombra hated big companies in general. They were usually run by liars, people who promised the world to those who backed them and then ripped everything away from those same individuals. Every large company she'd ever dealth with, from Lumerico to Volskaya Industries, was into _something_ shady, whether it was money laundering or taking bribes.

But Vishkar was the worst of the worst.

How they'd managed to pull off their shady business practices for so long was beyond her. She knew their secrets; she knew that they would go in making promises to poorer areas, only to turn on them later. They made money hand over fist by exploiting people who were already exploited and run down in the first place. It was sick, it was low, and Sombra hated everything about it.

But they also paid well.

The amount of money they were giving her to do this job (and to keep quiet about it) was absolutely _insane_. She'd never seen so many zeros on a single offer in her life, including what Talon had offered her for her services. Plus, she would have the opportunity to delve a little deeper into Vishkar's inner workings, like she had with Talon, and maybe gain a few more "friends" along the way. If she played her cards right, she could have her cake and eat it too, and no one would be any the wiser.

But still, she _hated_ them.

She had yet to meet someone within Vishkar that wasn't an uptight asshole. Everyone treated her as though she was the lowest of the low, _even though they'd hired her to be here_. It was absolutely mind boggling. In addition to that, they clearly didn't care who they were working with or why, as long as it got them one step closer to their ultimate goal. Sombra had offered to help them team up with Talon as a joke, since both organizations were apparently after the same thing...

She'd never expected that Vishkar executives would say _yes_.

Apparently, Vishkar was just as desperate as Talon was to get their hands on Junkrat.

She knew Junkrat. Not on a personal level, of course; she'd never actually spoken to him, but had helped to orchestrate his little crime spree on the bank in Dorado by leaving...clues, she supposed they were. That robbery had devastated Lumerico's holdings in the city, and had been the first in a long series of steps Sombra took to destroy them. She'd achieved her goal, destroyed that portion of Lumerico from the inside, and had helped a couple of dumb Junkers get a bit richer in the process.

Winners all around, on that one. It had turned out well.

How was she supposed to know at the time, though, that she'd been within spitting distance of the person who held information that would bring two of the world's most powerful organizations together? Vishkar and Talon, in Sombra's mind, were really no different from one another; the only major difference she saw between the two was that Vishkar had a better surface image to keep up, while Talon didn't care. Both had hurt people along the way, both had changed the world for the worse. Talon was just more open about it, even if they kept their overall motivations a secret.

Nevertheless, Vishkar had agreed to help. Her associates at Talon didn't necessarily know that they would be working with Vishkar, but she had plans in place to reveal that information to them in due time. The coordinates she'd passed on to Reaper would put them in a small town just outside of Sydney, where they would meet up with the private army Vishkar was providing. From there, they'd work together to find and infiltrate Overwatch and get Junkrat.

After that, Sombra had plans of her own.

But no one needed to know that. Not right now, anyway.

For now, Sombra was standing next to the most infuriating woman she'd ever met, going over the equipment that would be used to arm her new private army. There was something exhilerating about it all, being involved in something so big like this. Usually, Sombra preferred to stay in the background, subtly pulling the strings from behind the curtain. This time, for a little while at least, she was calling the shots from somewhat of a leadership role.

And she had no idea what she was doing.

She was relying mostly on the woman who had been assigned as her "handler" (though Sombra preferred to think of her as a partner rather than a handler; she wasn't a dog); the woman who had introduced herself as Symmetra was equal parts infuriating and beautiful. Sombra found her fascinating, actually, which was something she liked to remind Symmetra of every now and then. They'd been working side by side for two weeks now; Sombra figured Reaper and Widowmaker had to be more than a little annoyed with her right now. She'd promised answers the night they'd lost Junkrat to Overwatch a week ago, and she had yet to deliver. But Vishkar _apparently_ worked on their own time, and Sombra was helpless to stop that.

She supposed she could give them a call, let them know what was going on. But honestly, it was more fun this way. Sure it would make them angry, but what did she care? She held all the information, and with it, all the power. She'd let them know in due time.

Right now, she had to deal with Symmetra; while the woman was intriguing, she was also no fun to be around. She had mentioned several times that she didn't feel it was right to be giving Sombra so much power, considering they barely knew her, and she made it no secret that she was among the many Vishkar employees who considered Sombra little more than a criminal. Sombra had received direct orders from some asshole called Sanjay not to tell Symmetra exactly who she worked for, and for now Sombra was making good on this promise. Apparently Symmetra only knew the basic details about _why_ a private army was needed, but not exactly _who_ it was being commissioned for. Some part of Sombra felt bad about lying to this woman; despite her stuffy attitude, Symmetra seemed to really believe that Vishkar had good intentions, no matter how wrong she was about that. Sombra knew that, in some way, Symmetra had been brainwashed into believing the way she did. Everyone else she'd spoken to had no qualms about working with Talon, but apparently this woman would; it felt wrong somehow, manipulating her this way.

But, then again, Symmetra worked for Vishkar, and apparently had for years. There was no way for her to have absolutely no idea what was going on here. Her superiors wanted to keep Talon a secret from her? That was fine. It wasn't up to Sombra to decide.

Yet.

She might just bring it up to Symmetra at some point, if it became prudent.

"...that should be enough to supply every man Vishkar has given you," Symmetra was saying. Sombra, from her position beside the taller woman, nodded.

"Should be, yeah."

"You should know," Symmetra stated, rigidly turning to face the hacker eye to eye, "I do not trust you. And I do not understand why Sanjay does."

Sombra chuckled, "Smart girl. Don't trust everyone you meet, yes?"

Symmetra huffed and gave a barely discernable roll of her eyes, "I cannot wait for this to be over and for you to be on your way."

Sombra gave a little chuckle as she ran her hand along one of the guns laid out on the long table before them, "Trust me, honey, I feel the same way. I just want these people armed so I can get out of here."

The comm device around her wrist beeped once, indicating an incoming call. Sombra glanced down at it, noting that Reaper was calling her for the eighth time that week, and ignored it. She'd talk to him later, once she got back to the private quarters she'd been offered at Vishkar's main base of operations. Once she had swept the place of any and all bugs or cameras and EMP'd them out of existence, she'd been able to talk freely with Reaper and Widowmaker at her discretion. Honestly, it was kind of adorable that Vishkar had thought they could have pulled off any kind of hidden surveillance against the world's best hacker. For a bunch of smart people, they really were quite dumb.

"Sanjay has given you the coordinates where you will meet the men, yes?" Symmetra asked, looking over a tablet of information instead of paying Sombra any mind.

"Si. I've sent the coordinates along to my associates," Sombra answered. Symmetra made a small noise of agreement, but never once looked up from that tablet, "So am I good to go, or...?"

Symmetra nodded, "Yes. Be on your way," she said, waving one hand in Sombra's general direction as if to shoo her off like a bug.

Sombra gave a small chuckle and gently shoved her way past Symmetra. She noted, as she left the room, that Symmetra rubbed at her uniform where Sombra had touched her, as if wiping some dirt from the cloth. She always seemed to do that, and it irritated Sombra. As if she were so dirty she'd leave traces of herself behind on whatever she touched? As if she was some kind of disgusting animal? It was mildly insulting, while at the same time incredibly funny. It was taking every fiber of her being not to bring up the odd little quirk every chance she got, but she had the distinct feeling Symmetra wasn't even aware she was doing it. An odd little tick, as it were.

Didn't stop it from being insulting, however.

Somba returned to the relative peace and quiet of her sleeping quarters; the room was entirely white, and like the rest of the building, had once had a soft blue glow. It was not relaxing in the slightest, and Sombra wondered just how the people who called this place home endured it. Could explain their constant state of anger, she supposed. She'd hacked into the room's systems and turned off the lights that had been causing the blue glow, choosing instead to use the regular white lights to illuminate the room. It made the place a bit darker, but she didn't particularly care; her computer provided all the light she needed.

From this computer, Sombra sent a video call to her friends at Talon.  
__________________________________________________________________________________

It was after the second day of stalking the couple that Fuse decided simply killing them and taking their stuff wasn't going cut it. She'd managed to get a better look at some of the weapons stored at the camp and had seen what she'd recognized as the Overwatch insignia; that meant that either these two had stolen the weapons from a government depository, or they were working for Overwatch. Either way, they were probably wanted criminals, and a price would be on their heads.

Fuse intended to collect that bounty.

She'd take them both, alive, and sell them off to the highest bidder. From there, she could use their weapons and equipment for herself. Or maybe she'd sell those off, too. It depended on how she was feeling and how much money she wanted. She happened to know for a fact that biotic devices alone were worth a fair amount of money to anyone working the crinimal underground; they could take the devices, use what they needed to use to heal themselves, and sell the rest off.

Either way, the well armed old couple would be quite the payday.

They spent the next couple of days just watching the two of them, learning what they could. Fuse sent her men out three to four at a time, for several hours at a time, just to watch them. The gang only moved when the couple moved, always staying far enough back to avoid being detected, but always sending people forward to keep an eye out. At one point, it seemed they'd been caught when a scout had been seen, but luckily he'd been unarmed at the time and he'd managed to play off being innocent; the old man had been less than trustful, keeping a weapon trained on him. The old woman was a little more welcoming, even sending the scout off with a little bit of food and medical supplies. Neither of them were, according to the scout, anything akin to relaxed during the situation; they clearly didn't trust him, and the help the old woman offered seemed to be a way to just get him away from them.

So the man wouldn't hesitate to fight back, without question. The woman could be talked down and reasoned with if needed.

After nearly a week of stalking the old couple through the desert, Fuse had assembled an attack plan.

They would attack at night, while their quarry were asleep, and jump the man; he'd need to be taken out quickly, either shot and incapacitated, or knocked out in some way. From there, they could probably talk the woman down long enough to get her to hand over the biotic devices. After that...

After that, they could do whatever they wanted with the geezers. It didn't really matter. Fuse was certain a bounty would be worth more for them alive, but if the two of them turned out to be more trouble than she'd anticipated, she'd collect the bounty on their dead bodies. It wasn't an entirely rock solid plan, but Fuse had the numbers in this case, coupled with the element of surprise. She was intent upon making sure that worked in her favor this time.

She would not fail again. She _couldn't_.

Fuse needed a win.  
__________________________________________________________________________________

The Junker duo had only been at Overwatch HQ for a week, and things had been destroyed more often than not. Six fires had been started, and one had nearly taken out an old supply room. A window had been broken, several pieces of furniture had to be repaired or outright tossed out because of damage done, and stuff had gone missing from people's personal rooms. A training dummy had literally exploded at one point, nearly taking Fareeha and McCree with it during one of their training sessions. A toilet had backed up and flooded one section of the sleeping quarters, and several of the canisters Roadhog seemed to always have on his person littered the ground all over.

The two were mass chaos, it seemed, and everyone was sick of it.

McCree had managed to catch Junkrat out on one of the observational balconies one day, just before dinner, repeatedly and almost methodically lighting a lighter. He hated trying to imagine what it was the Junker was thinking, but he had to figure it out before another fire started.

They were running out of usable living space.

"Hey, Junkrat," McCree drawled, trying to keep his tone as friendly and conversational as possible, "Whatcha doin'?"

Junkrat glanced up at McCree, shrugged, and turned his attention back to the lighter, "Nothin'."

McCree nodded at said lighter, "You plannin' on using that on something?"

Junkrat giggled, "I dunno, maybe." He looked at McCree and shoved the lighter in his pocket, "Lemme guess, you don't want me to?"

McCree shrugged, then reached into his own pocket and pulled out a cigar, holding it out toward Junkrat, "Wanna use it on this, real quick?"

Junkrat seemed to consider it for a second, then shrugged and pulled the lighter out of his pocket, flicking the flame to life and holding it to the cigar's end. McCree tipped his hat toward the Junker by way of thanks and put the cigar in his mouth.

Junkrat grinned, slowly, "That'll kill ya, ya know."

McCree considered the cigar for a moment, then nodded, "I s'pose you're right, kid." He found it an odd statement coming from someone who was _literally_ smoking at this very minute, but he didn't voice that out loud.

Junkrat put the lighter back in his pocket and leaned back against the railing behind him, "You people actually have a plan, or are we all just sittin' on our arses for a while?"

McCree chuckled, "Why? You gettin' antsy?"

"I'm getting bored," Junkrat stated in a matter of fact tone, "That's never a good thing. I'd rather not blow up my rescuers, mate."

"Well, that's good to hear," McCree said with a nod, "What do you like to do? I'm sure we could come up with something."

"Mate, what I like to do is something I've been repeatedly asked not to do."

Well, that was the truth. Both Junkrat and Roadhog had been confronted, several times, about the destruction they'd caused since coming here. Granted, it wasn't on a grand scale, but it was enough to make everyone worry about what would happen if it ever hit a grand scale.

"You _gotta_ blow stuff up?" McCree asked, "I mean, there's stuff to do, if you're willin' to try. Seems to me you ain't willin'."

"Name one thing."

"There's movies and games in the rec room. Training grounds, a basketball court, a tennis court. You could cook something, maybe. Everyone here likes to eat..." Every word that came out of McCree's mouth was met with an increasingly perplexed look from Junkrat. McCree sighed, "Anything at all you like to do that doesn't involve fire or explosives?"

Junkrat just stared at McCree for a long while, and McCree was beginning to think this whole thing was a bust. They'd be cleaing up Junkrat's mess for as long as he was here, until they could decide what to do with him. That was going to get old real fast. Already had gotten old, as a matter of fact...

"I like to build things," Junkrat finally said, surprising McCree.

"Sorry?"

Junkrat shrugged, "I like to build things. Take things apart, put 'em back together. You know, figure out how things work." He motioned in the general direction of the building behind McCree, "Those weapons you took from us when we got 'ere? I made 'em. By hand."

The weapons Junkrat was referring to were the grenade launcher and Roadhog's giant scrap gun. McCree remembered them; he'd had a hard time picking up that stupid scrapgun long enough to put it in lockdown. Both of the weapons were crude, to be sure, but at their core they were actually pretty well designed. They worked, at least, and they worked well. So much so that Roadhog had mentioned he rarely used his other gun anymore, the one he'd had before Junkrat made the scrapgun. The scrapgun was just that much more reliable in the long run.

It had not occurred to McCree that Junkrat, of all people, had made those weapons.

McCree raised his eyebrows at the Junker, a grin spreading across his face, "That's actually kinda impressive, kid."

Junkrat chuckled rather darkly, "You think I'm an idiot, right? Think I'm just some dumb Junker who don't know 'ow to do things m'self?"

McCree shook his head, "That clearly ain't true, kid. If you were a complete idiot, I reckon you wouldn't be alive right now. Takes a special kind of smart to survive that Wasteland."

Junkrat narrowed his eyes at McCree as though trying to figure him out, "Why are you bein' so nice to me, mate?"

McCree shrugged and moved to lean on the railing next to Junkrat, who inched away a bit, as if uneasy, "If any of this is gonna work, kid, we gotta be nice to each other."

"Only reason anyone is nice is if they want something," Junkrat retorted. There was a moment of complete silence while McCree smoked his cigar and looked out over the mountains before him. Junkrat just stared at him. Then finally, Junkrat spoke.

"I can't tell you where the treasure is, mate."

McCree nodded, never once turning to face Junkrat, "Yeah, I know. You said that before."

"So why are you bein' nice if you know?"

"Can't just be nice?"

Junkrat made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a snort, "No. That's not the way this works, mate."

McCree shrugged, "Sorry you feel that way, kid."

"Look," Junkrat said, pushing himself up off the railing to stand behind McCree, "I need something to do, mate. I'm bored. And that's dangerous for you and everyone else in here."

It was McCree's turn to snort, "You makin' a threat, kid?"

"Just stating a fact, mate," Junkrat said, "And stop callin' me 'kid,' yeah?"

McCree nodded, "Yeah, okay." He turned around to face Junkrat, looking the (surprisingly) much taller man in the eyes, "Look, I might have somethin' in mind to help you, but you need to gimme a few hours to set it up, okay? Please, do not blow anything up in the meantime."

"Whatcha got in mind?"

"You'll see. If it works, you can do all the buildin' you want."

Junkrat seemed to consider this, "Okay...?"

"Trust me," McCree said, gently pushing past Junkrat and back toward the door he'd come out from, "You'll like it, promise."

It took a couple hours of talking, and even downright begging to make it happen, but later that afternoon McCree and Torbjorn presented Junkrat with an area of his own in a corner of Torbjorn's workshop. There was a worktable and a bunch of old tools, plus whatever Torbjorn had stopped using or couldn't make work. It was subtle, but McCree saw Junkrat's small smile of appreciation at the idea of having an area of his own, and the Junker even offered a sincere thank you to both of them for setting it up. Torbjorn had laid down several ground rules, but for the most part, everyone seemed happy with the deal.

With any luck, it would keep Junkrat busy for a little bit while Overwatch figured out exactly how to help him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case the timing is hard to understand: Sombra has been working with Symmetra for two weeks, but everything else that takes place in this chapter happens one week after the incident in Sydney.
> 
> Sombra is surprisingly easy to write, and I enjoy writing her.
> 
> Symmetra, for as little time as she was even in this chapter, is actually really hard to write.


	10. Thank God For Sleep Darts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, this is a short one.
> 
> My mind really wandered with this one, and I had a hard time finding out where to go with the chapter. I was fairly happy with it as is, but anytime I tried to add anything onto it to make it longer, my mind would go off in eight thousand different directions and I couldn't decide where to go.
> 
> So I kept it short and sweet.
> 
> Enjoy!

Thank God for sleep darts.

Fuse had ultimately had to change up her plan of attack, having overlooked one little thing: the old couple rarely slept at the same time. One of them was always on lookout, so jumping them in the middle of the night would be next to impossible. Fuse had been about to give up when she'd witnessed an incredible event that changed everything.

The old couple had been apprehended.

Apparently both the old couple and Fuse's gang had wandered a little too close to a major highway; both groups had been doing a fairly decent job of staying off major roads and only stopping in very small populated areas. The woman would disappear into a library or a post office for a couple of hours, and they'd move on. They rarely stayed the night in motels, instead choosing to set up their small camp or hide out inside old buildings. They weren't headed toward the Outback, Fuse had noted, but north. One of her scouts had mentioned overhearing a conversation between the two that indicated the old woman had a contact in a small town that could get them air transport to Sweden. So it was clear the two of them were on the run, and they had a clear destination in mind.

But that day, they'd run afoul of a highway patrolman out doing his job.

He'd seen the weapons and apprehended the old couple while he called in for backup.

It was at that point that Fuse saw the sleep darts for the first time.

The old woman had shot the policeman, once, in the back of the neck and he'd crumbled like a pile of bricks before he could get to his radio to call backup. At first, Fuse had thought the old bitch had killed the guy; she didn't particularly care, of course, but it had simply surprised her. She hadn't considered that the old woman would be the ruthless one of the two. But when she had approached the prone officer after the old couple had run off, she'd noted that he was only asleep, not dead.

And _that's_ when she'd changed her plan of attack.

She had to get her hands on that gun.

Fuse was certain both of them had had some kind of military training at some point, and the problem with _that_ was that they tended to stick to a rigid schedule. After several weeks of tracking the old couple, Fuse managed to get a decent handle on just what that schedule was.

So it was that, during one of the old woman's lookout periods, Fuse exacted her new plan.

The old woman had just finished writing something by the glow of a flashlight and was shoving it back into her bags when Fuse jumped her from behind and tore her off her perch. The woman made to yell for help, but Fuse covered her mouth with her own hand and began rummaging around inside the woman's pockets for that dart gun.

She didn't expect to get bit.

She drew her hand back and let out a surprised yelp, then let out another one when the old woman elbowed her in the stomach. Fuse's men emerged from the darkness around them, all two dozen armed and ready to fight.

The old man woke up.

He immediately made a move toward Fuse with the intent of getting her off of his companion, and was grabbed from behind by Fuse's second in command, an absolute mountain of a man by the name of Sway. Sway picked the old man up around the shoulders and tossed him off to one side; he hit a tree at full force but stood up and made a grab for his weapon. Three other people ran forward to grab him while everyone else aimed weapons his way.

They had orders to shoot him if he killed anyone.

Fuse, meanwhile, managed to wrestle the old woman to the ground, then immediately took a punch to the face that knocked her off balance. She fell off balance, grabbing hold of a nearby tree branch to steady herself. Once she'd regained her balance, she lunged forward at the old woman...

Both of them were distracted by the sudden yelp of one of Fuse's men as he went flying across the small clearing and smacked into a nearby rock, courtesy of the old man. Sway once again grabbed the man, this time by the arm, and shoved him to the ground; the man got his feet up and under Sway's rib cage and flipped him over his own body.

Fuse had been right that the old man was the fighter between the two.

The old woman, meanwhile, took advantage of the distraction to land a sucker punch right into Fuse's face. Fuse lost all concept of balance and fell backward onto her butt. More men jumped into the fray now, splitting up to grab hold of both the old man and the old woman.

"Ana!" the old man choked out before he was rudely smacked over the head with the butt of a gun.

Oh, so the old woman's name was Ana. That was good to know.

Ana was wrestling against the grasps of three of Fuse's men, while the rest went to help take down the man; he'd turned out to be even more of a problem than Fuse had originally thought. He was stronger, faster, and more agile than anyone she'd ever met, and she'd known quite a few pretty decent fighters in her time. Most of those fighters couldn't go toe to toe with Sway and win, but this man was fighting off more than twenty men right now and coming out on top. Fuse needed to get a hold of that goddamn sleep dart gun...thing...

She tried to get a hold of herself enough to stand -- the sucker punch had really knocked her out of it. She got to her feet and stumbled forward toward the woman, Ana, reaching into her pockets to find the gun that would put the old man down.

_Hopefully_ it would put the old man down. At this point, she wasn't entirely sure.

She managed to get a hold of the gun and yelled to Sway to get out of the way. Sway once again tossed the old man to the ground, a good six feet away from the group that had tackled him.

"Jack!" Ana screamed.

Fuse shot.

Normally she didn't have the greatest aim. As long as she hit somewhere on the body, she wasn't too picky. She rarely went for kill shots, since simply shooting someone in, say, the stomach or the knee turned out to be more painful anyway, and that was more fun for her. She wasn't used to such a tiny gun, either; her crappy little hand repaired shotgun was almost as long as she was tall, and was quite cumbersome to use.

But luck was apparently on her side tonight.

She shot that dart, and it connected with the man's neck.

He went to stand, the creepy mask Fuse had only just now noticed glowing an eerie red as he grunted. He made a rather clumsy run for the group that had tried to pin him down, then fell face first into the ground, fast asleep. Fuse let out a triumphant whoop and pounded the air with the gun.

"Oh, I like this thing!" she said, holding it up in front of Ana's face.

"Jack!" Ana called, her one good eye on her friend's prone body as Fuse's men dragged her back away from him.

Fuse let out a little huff of relief.

Thank God for sleep darts.  
__________________________________________________________________________________

From his spot on the ground, Jack struggled with consciousness. He could hear Ana yelling his name, could see their attackers gathering around him, could hear their laughter and the triumphant yelp from the woman who had attacked Ana...

He had to get up...

He couldn't get up...

"...Ana..."

The group above him melded together into one large blurry shadow, and the edges of his vision darkened.

He gave in to the sweet release of sleep.  
__________________________________________________________________________________

From the shadows at the top of a rock formation not far from the camp, a figure watched as Fuse and her men attacked Ana and Jack. The figure let out an annoyed huff; those two were supposed to have held the answers he'd been looking for. He knew that, despite all of his training, he couldn't take on that many men at once just for the sake of a couple of old people who may or may not even be willing to help him.

He would need to find answers elsewhere. The old couple couldn't possibly be the only people with information on Overwatch...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, funny story about this.
> 
> Someone in the comments mentioned in the last chapter that they felt bad for Fuse, because she was going to get her ass kicked. And I realized that yes, that was most likely true; 76 alone took on a whole Los Muertos group in Dorado in the Hero short. But, for this story to go where I needed it to go, I needed Fuse to get a win, and I got discouraged. How was she going to win against 76?
> 
> Then, I was playing Overwatch. I, as Ana, landed a lucky sleep dart on an ulting 76.
> 
> And it occured to me...
> 
> Fuse could use the sleep dart.
> 
> So that's what she did. And as an added bonus, I even based it on my experience with the sleep dart in that situation: I literally whooped and punched the air out of excitement, too (seriously, I'm TERRIBLE at landing those things on anyone smaller than Zarya).
> 
> So thank you to the person in the comments, for helping to make this chapter a bit more believable by pointing out that Fuse would have gotten her ass kicked if I'd written it the way I originally had planned. This makes more sense in the long run, and was, quite frankly, a lot more fun to write.
> 
> ALSO: We do in fact know the man in the shadows at the end of the chapter. Just sayin'.


	11. No Strings Attached

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to get out. I was dealing with family being in town and I've been trying to accomplish something akin to a job search (seriously, it's ridiculous how hard it is to find something that pays above minimum wage out here). This chapter has gone through rewrite after rewrite in and among all the craziness that was the last two weeks, so I hope you enjoy it.

Giving Junkrat something to do during daylight hours only alleviated half of the problems. The other half came during nighttime hours, when very little people were actually awake and could watch him.

As it turned out, Junkrat didn't sleep often. He seemed to have a bad habit of just constantly moving and going, always doing _something_ , and only sleeping for a couple of hours every day. This left a good twenty hours worth of time for him to try to occupy himself, and when others were asleep or simply not paying attention he still caused problems.

Yes, there were less fires and random explosions to contend with, but it was still an issue in the long run.

Torbjorn had taken to actually locking his shop up at night to keep Junkrat out while he got some much needed sleep. He apologized for it, since it would keep Junkrat from accessing the workshop to keep from getting bored, but the Junker had nearly destroyed the place one evening after everyone else had gone to bed, and Torbjorn wasn't willing to lose anymore work. He couldn't watch the kid every hour of every day, and evidently that was a necessity if they were going to keep him from destroying things.

The worst part of it was, Torbjorn was almost one hundred per cent certain Junkrat wasn't actually _trying_ to destroy anything. He had the feeling that the kid just wanted to explore, to build things and take things apart, but for some reason didn't understand that there were boundaries to that.

Destroying some of Torbjorn's life works, for instance, was one of those boundaries.

So the workshop started getting locked up at night to keep his projects safe, and Junkrat was left to just sort of wander.

Roadhog, meanwhile, had proven to be surprisingly amenable toward the Overwatch agents. He didn't talk much and wasn't too intrusive, often staying off on his own or with Junkrat, and never really interjecting himself into conversations. Everyone figured that Junkrat's overnight destruction would be a lot worse if Roadhog weren't around, and for that they were ever grateful. The big man even proved to be surprisingly smart, offering a challenge for the likes of Winston and Mei over a game of chess; he couldn't quite beat Winston (who was Overwatch's resident chess champion), but had managed to keep a win streak over Mei during a series of games before she eventually learned his strategy and gained the upper hand.

He even provided an excellent training partner for Reinhardt; the two weren't afraid to actually hit one another, and had often sent each other to Angela's office over the course of the next few weeks (much to her chagrin) with injuries provided from training. The two seemed to have a deep level of respect for each other, offering a small nod or wave to one another as they passed each other in the halls. Were Roadhog to remove his mask, Reinhardt would be able to see that even the large smile he gave to the big man every day was often returned, if only slightly.

While everyone had seemed to come to accept Roadhog's presence, if not outright enjoy it, everyone seemed to simply tolerate Junkrat.

It didn't bother him, really. He'd never expected to go around making friends with the Overwatch agents during his time with them. They weren't his kind of people; they were goodie-goodies who always tried to do everything the "right" way, for any given value of the word "right." They were...fake, for lack of a better term. He had a hard time believing anyone was that nice. He didn't care to be friends with these people, he just needed them to keep him safe until he could work things out.

Still...

It _was_ a bit annoying that they all seemed to get along with Roadhog so well. What was so different about the big lug that made him _better_? Why did they all want to spend time with Roadhog, and not Junkrat?

No, he didn't care. It didn't matter. Roadhog could have friends if he felt he needed them that badly. Whatever. Junkrat was above that. He didn't need the people who had saved his life to like him...

It was lonely at the top, wasn't it?

The dwarf had just finished giving Junkrat an extensive lesson about not. Touching. _Anything_. before leaving the workshop to get some food or something. Junkrat was only half listening to the little man's ramblings, but had caught something about shoving a wrench up his ass if he broke anything; if there was one thing Junkrat had learned about this little guy over the last few weeks, it was that he rarely went back on his promises, which this supposedly was.

He supposed he could keep his hands to himself for a few minutes while Torbjorn got some lunch.

Better than tying to remove a wrench from an unpleasant area just for not taking the threat seriously.

Junkrat had just finished putting together a small component for his gun (were he ever to get his hands back on the thing), when the door to the workshop opened behind him. He assumed it was Torbjorn, returning from the kitchen with food, and so didn't turn around. He didn't expect the dwarf to bring him anything to eat; he didn't eat much anyway, only in-taking whatever he needed to, you know, live. Torbjorn had offered to bring him a plate before, and Junkrat always turned the offer down. He didn't like food much. He couldn't really taste it.

Radiation tended to do that to a person.

Or so he'd heard.

It wasn't until he heard shuffling behind him that it occurred to him that Torbjorn had literally just left, so whomever had stepped into the workshop was not the little man. Curiosity got the better of Junkrat and he turned to look over his shoulder, get a look at who had walked in.

The big man known as Reinhardt was facing away from Junkrat, glancing around the workshop.

"He ain't here, mate," Junkrat said, a bit louder than he'd intended, "Went to get somethin' to eat."

If he'd startled Reinhardt, the big man didn't let it show. He simply turned to face Junkrat, a smile on his face, "Ah, hello, my friend!"

_I'm not your friend_ , Junkrat thought to himself; he somehow managed to stop himself from saying that out loud. Odd. He didn't tend to have a filter. "You're lookin' for the Torbjorn guy, right?" he asked, "He went upstairs. Get somethin' to eat."

He never turned to face Reinhardt as he spoke, instead remaining focused upon his project at hand, but he felt the big man's presence looming over him as he looked over his shoulder.

"What are you building there, my friend?"

Junkrat turned to face Reinhardt, surprised to find the other man so close to him. If it was possible, Reinhardt was even more imposing than Roadhog; the gigantic German was apparently made of pure muscle to Roadhog's stout fat, so that probably had a lot to do with it. Junkrat assumed he could probably bench press a car, if need be. He didn't really want to wind up on this guy's bad side...

"I'm just...tinkering," he said, offering Reinhardt a smile.

Reinhardt returned the smile tenfold and clapped Junkrat on the shoulder, "Ah, good! Always good to have something to do, yes?"

Junkrat scowled, rubbing at his shoulder, "Yeah, sure."

"Torby told me you got a little...curious a few nights ago, yes?"

Junkrat barely managed to keep from rolling his eyes at the question. Apparently this little spontaneous visit was an interrogation. "I apologized, mate. I'm still 'ere, right? No big deal."

"No, of course not," Reinhardt said, "Torby fixed it, in the end." He laughed, a big booming sound filled with joy that seemed to rock the room, "He was angry though, let me tell you."

Junkrat nodded, "Yeah, I know, mate. He made sure to tell me 'imself. Several times, matter of fact."

"I'm sure he did."

"There a reason you're down here mate? Your, ah, friend is upstairs."

Reinhardt shrugged, "I needed his help fixing my armor. It's rather old, you see, and needs repair often. Usually my squire, Brigitte, would do it for me, but she is not here. Torby deals with it in her stead."

Junkrat raised a brow at the big man, "'Squire'? Like in those old fantasy stories?"

Reinhardt chuckled, "I suppose so, yes."

Well, this guy was rather strange, wasn't he? "So why ain't this squire here, mate? Too much for her to handle here, with you?"

It was Reinhardt's turn to raise a brow, "No, of course not. She handles herself fine on the battlefield. She is simply not involved in my Overwatch affairs, you see."

"Why not?"

"She chooses not to be. She doesn't necessarily...agree with me being here."

Junkrat chuckled, "Not all for the 'vigilante world-saving organization,' I take it?"

Reinhardt shook his head, "Not at all, no."

Junkrat shrugged, "Eh, oh well. What're you gonna do, eh?" He swiveled back around in his chair and continued to poke at the component resting on the work table in front of him. He hoped that, now that it was clear Torbjorn wasn't down here, Reinhardt would leave.

But he didn't.

"You do not like it here, do you?"

Junkrat blinked, swiveling back around to face Reinhardt, "What do you mean, mate? Why wouldn't I like it here, big guy?"

Reinhardt snorted, crossed his massive arms over his massive chest, and gave Junkrat a smirk, "We _are_ trying, you know."

"...trying...? Trying what?"

"To connect with you."

Junkrat burst out laughing. He didn't really care if they liked him anyway, and he certainly didn't care to get close to any of them. So where was this coming from? What did Reinhardt care if they "connected" with each other? Junkrat and Roadhog were there on business, nothing more. So what if everyone apparently liked Roadhog more than they liked him, that didn't matter.

Friends didn't matter in the long run.

"Mate, what're you gettin' at?" Junkrat asked once he'd calmed down.

Reinhardt leaned against a nearby shelf, looking less than amused, "You appeared annoyed with the fact that I made arrangements to train with your friend later this afternoon. You seemed hurt when the kids invited him to play their games with them." He shrugged, "I assumed you were feeling left out."

"Not at all, mate."

Reinhardt nodded, "I see. Well, it appears I was mistaken, then."

Annoyance bubbled up inside Junkrat's chest then and he stood, "They invited me to play games, you know. I said no, but they did."

"All right," Reinhardt said, a smirk coming to his lips, "May I ask why you said no?"

Junkrat shrugged, "I dunno, mate. Didn't wanna."

Reinhardt nodded, "I see."

Junkrat pretended to be interested in something under his nail for a moment as he spoke, "They only asked once, though. Not like I changed my mind or anything."

Reinhardt nodded again, "Well, you _can_ be a bit off-putting, my friend."

Junkrat snorted, "Yeah, I'm aware. Kinda one of the first things people tell me, outside of 'go away.'"

As Reinhardt looked down at the boy who had so desperately called for their help weeks before, he realized that this half-crazed weirdo had been through so much more than any of them would ever be able to understand. Reinhardt had spoken to Torbjorn about the boy's strange eating habits (mainly that he almost never ate unless he was practically forced to), and McCree and Angela both had mentioned the Junker's completely odd sleeping schedule (if one could call it that). Whatever life this boy had lead before coming here was a life Reinhardt would wish on no one, and it broke his heart to know that someone so young had been forced to live it.

He offered Junkrat a small, genuine smile, "Is there anything I can offer you, my boy? Anything to make you feel more welcome here?"

Junkrat's face betrayed confusion, even under the perpetual smile, "What do you mean, mate?"

Reinhardt shrugged again, "Anything at all?"

Junkrat looked around, the smile disappearing now, "I mean, I dunno, mate. I dunno what you want me to say here."

"You don't need to say anything, my boy. Just know that if you need anything at all, I will do my best to help you."

"Yeah, why?"

"I'd like to help you where I can."

Junkrat snorted again and sat back down in his chair. He leaned back and slipped both arms in behind his head, the manic smile splitting his face once again, "Mate, no one offers a complete strager 'anything at all' without expecting something in return."

Reinhardt shook his head, "I require nothing in return. Simply..." he shrugged, spreading his arms wide, "...offering my companionship and guidance."

"You came down here just to offer that to me, huh?"

"No. I came down here to ask my old friend to repair my old armor. You happened to be down here when I arrived."

"Convenient for you, eh?"

It occurred to Reinhardt now that the boy was completely serious. He really expected Reinhardt to demand something out of friendship. It was sad, really, that the boy knew so little about how it felt to have someone try to genuinely care for him.

Reinhardt nodded, giving another shrug, and turned to leave, "Keep it in mind, my boy. I'm here for anything you need. No conditions. No strings attached. I promise."

"Why?" Junkrat called, causing Reinhardt to stop in his tracks and turn around.

"Because believe it or not, Junkrat, I do care about what happens to you. You're only here for a short time, or so you seem to think." He paused, sighed, looked Junkrat up and down, "I'd like for you to be comfortable here while you stay."

He turned again, not pausing to look back, leaving Junkrat alone in the workshop to ponder just what kind of kindness had just been offered him.

No strings attached.  
__________________________________________________________________________________

For someone who wanted to keep their alliance with Talon a secret from her, Sanjay was pretty good at making sure Symmetra checked in with Sombra at all times. It was getting harder and harder to keep the fact that she was inside a Talon safe-house classified from the other woman when she kept calling at the most inopportune moments.

Such as now, as Sombra was speaking directly to Widowmaker and Reaper, two of Talon's highest ranking operatives.

Reaper and Widowmaker weren't exactly happy about the arrangement with Vishkar and had made it known repeatedly over the course of the last several weeks. They also found it completely ridiculous that Symmetra didn't know, and that Sombra had no intention of telling her; how long did she plan on keeping it a secret, exactly? And why? And how? Just question after question after question. She really wished they'd just trust her.

Not that she'd given them any reason to.

But still.

Sombra had been in the middle of organizing an attack on a nearby safe-house that used to exist under Overwatch's watchful eye, hoping they would catch some former members taking refuge there. If not that, then maybe information about where they could possibly be hiding. Reaper had compiled a list of all of the Watchpoints they could have moved to; there were hundreds of them all over the world, and none of them really felt like searching through each one alphabetically to find the agents and Junkrat. The safe-house was their only hope at finding any kind of information about where they could be.

It was irritating how good these people were at not leaving a paper trail for Sombra to follow. She could find all of the information in the world about each of the individual agents, but she couldn't find where those agents actually _were_.

If only Reaper hadn't screwed up his mission all those months ago, Sombra would have her hands on the information Athena had stored within her systems and none of this would be happening right now.

But of course, she would never say that out loud to Gabe himself. She rather liked being in one piece, and there was only so much ribbing the old ghost could handle before he went on a murderous rampage.

It was during one of these meetings with Reaper and Widowmaker that Symmetra had called. Sombra ushered her partners out of the room (they protested, but didn't resist), and removed anything that would give away Talon's presence from the camera's view.

Sanjay was an idiot if he thought this secret would last for too much longer.

Hopefully she could fix his stupidity using the information she had at hand.

"Hola!" Sombra said as Symmetra's face appeared on the screen, wiggling her fingers in a playful wave, "What's up?"

"Sanjay would like a progress report," Symmetra said, that beautiful face of hers pinched into a stern glare, "It's been three weeks, Sombra."

Sombra nodded, "I know, I know. Look, I've found an old Overwatch safe-house. We're going to raid it and see what we can find."

"You're sure this..." she looked at what Sombra could only assume was a tablet resting in her hands, "... _Junkrat_ is with them?" There was nothing but disgust in her voice as she said the Junker's name. It made Sombra chuckle; how could someone dislike another person so much from a _name alone_ ?

"Si, mi Amiga, he's with them. My associates are one hundred per cent certain."

"I feel as if we are wasting time and money on this. When can you deliver what you've promised?"

Sombra held up both hands, trying to calm Symmetra down. Not that Symmetra was overly emotional, anyway, but Sombra could hear the irritation in the other woman's voice, "Listen to me, Symmetra, I have this under control. You need to trust me, si?"

Symmetra shook her head, "I do not."

Sombra chuckled, "I understand that. I do." She sat down on the table opposite the monitor, fingering through the papers that rested there and eventually picking up a tablet with information on it, "I do have something for you though. Something that might make me a bit more trustworthy in your eyes."

Symmetra's eyebrows shot up, but otherwise her expression didn't change. Even her eyes maintained their stoic glare under the brows. She didn't say a word, simply waiting.

Sombra put the tablet down and stood up. She waved her hand in front of her and several holographic pictures appeared in front of her, "I heard about what happened in Brazil, about the boy who stole your technology and started a revolution." She waved a few of the pictures away, pointing at one in particular; it came forward and Sombra made a square around it with her thumbs and forefingers, enlarging it. It was a picture of Lucio, surrounded by a crowd of people inside a run down favela. The crowd and Lucio all had their fists raised, and it was clear they were yelling something.

Sombra's eyes flicked from the picture in front of her to Symmetra's face on the screen. The other woman's eyes had widened and a combination of anger and awe had somehow reached her face through the stoicism.

"What about him?" Symmetra eventually asked, after a long period of silence.

Sombra shrugged, "Apparently, ah, Overwatch recruited him."

" _ **What**_?"

Sombra chuckled; she liked this more forceful side to Symmetra. It was sexy. "They recruited him, and they got your technology out of the deal." She sat on the table again, nudging Lucio's picture closer to the monitor and, by extension, Symmetra, "If I find Overwatch, you get him, and Junkrat. You get your treasure, your thief, and your stolen tech." She chuckled, "Can you imagine taking this to Sanjay? You'd be the hero, Symmetra."

Symmetra rolled her eyes, "That doesn't matter. Tell me where to find him."

"That's what I'm going to do," Sombra said. She clenched her fist and Lucio's picture disappeared, the glove on her left hand stopped glowing. God, she loved doing that. It was just _so much fun_ to add a little flair to what she did. "You need to give me time. You need to trust me to work on this."

Her smile disappeared and she looked down her nose at Symmetra, "You need to let me find Overwatch, Symmetra. I will call you when I have the information."

"How do I know you will keep that promise?"

Sombra shrugged, "Do you know how easy it would have been for me to keep Lucio's presence a secret from you? It doesn't matter to me if you get him, Bonita. I'm telling you this so that you will trust me. I'm doing what's best for you, and for Vishkar. You just have to let me do my job, and stop bothering me."

Symmetra huffed, "Indeed."

"Good."

"Sombra."

Sombra gave Symmetra a small grin, "Yes, Bonita?"

"Thank you. You are doing well. I will see to it that you receive the first installment of your payment tomorrow."

Fucking. Finally.

"Gracias, Bonita."

"De nada, Sombra. Please, do not hesitate to call me as soon as you have any information."

Sombra drew an "X" across her chest with her left hand, raising her right arm at the elbow, "Cross my heart and hope to die. I'll give you any information I can find. No strings attached."

She was lying, of course.

But Symmetra didn't need to know that.

At least, for now, Vishkar would stay off her back and let her work.

No strings attached.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, Sombra is SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE. I have such a blast trying to figure out how to properly write all of her little mannerisms out so that you guys can see it in your heads as you read the chapter. I mean, I literally sit here and act out everything she does as I write it, so that I can make it as accurate as possible. It's so much fun! She's quickly becoming my favorite character to write in this story.


	12. Ladies' Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is actually a culmination of three different chapters I had written but had nowhere to place within the story. Eventually I just decided to link them all together and make it one long chapter!
> 
> By the way, in case anyone noticed: Yes, I did delete the former chapter 11. I didn't like how it had come out and it didn't fit with the rest of the story, so it's no longer a part of the story. I'm probably gonna just chop it up and use pieces of it for later chapters, I don't know. At any rate, I'm much happier with the way this chapter and the chapter before it have progressed things, so this is how I'll leave it.
> 
> Enjoy!

Angela needed a break.

Quite frankly, she felt like everyone needed a break. She and Mei were always working, Lena was always out on some mission or otherwise organizing missions, Fareeha was always training, and Hana was constantly moving back and forth between Sweden and Korea to perform interviews and go to conventions. Angela could feel the stress radiating from everyone in the Watchpoint, but it was most palpable with the women in her life.

So, she organized a Ladies' Night.

At first, it had been a chore, getting everyone to agree to go. Hana immediately said yes upon receiving her invitation, but Lena was a bit more hesitant; it took a little convincing from Winston for her to agree to go. He finally had to assure her that he'd be fine without her for one night, and that she needed this. Mei reluctantly agreed, but didn't need too much persuasion beyond the promise that Hana and Lena were also attending. The biggest hurdle was Fareeha. She vehemently refused the invitation at first, only promising to attend as a personal favor to Angela herself.

Angela had the girls, now she just needed the place.

She found a local bar a few miles down the mountain from the Watchpoint, inside the small mountain town that provided their monthly supply shipment. The bar itself was an extension of the town's largest resort, and by all accounts it was a pretty nice place. The pictures online boasted an outdoor eating area overlooking the mountain range, with the bar itself made to have the aesthetic of a log cabin in the woods. They probably wouldn't utilize the outdoor area since the weather betrayed that it might snow, but the indoor bar looked cozy. Angela was excited. She didn't often get to spend time alone with just the girls in a place that didn't require her to work all the time. She didn't usually get a lot of downtime. She loved her job, but she was _always_ working; it would be nice to just sit back, drink a few beers, and relax.

So, on Friday night, the ladies of Overwatch climbed into the large van that sat on the property, and drove the forty minutes into town.

Angela hadn't realized until this very moment just how little everyone actually spoke with one another. She'd known Fareeha since she was a teenager, and she'd known Lena for only a little less time than that. But Mei and Hana? Angela hadn't really spoken to them. It wasn't because she didn't want to, to be sure; she wanted to say she was close to everyone in Overwatch. She had to be. As the head physician, she needed everyone to trust her. She could only get that if she got to know them. But she was always working, as was Mei. The two spoke occasionally at breakfast, and had shared a short conversation on the dropship to Sydney, but Angela couldn't really say she knew Mei. She'd spoken to Hana quite a bit (the girl did _love_ to talk), but not really enough to know much about her outside of the fact that she was a gamer.

Tonight, she hoped, would change all that.

They pulled the van into the parking lot outside the resort nearly forty minutes later; Angela eased the van to the ground and shut off the engine. The five women all but fell out of the vehicle, laughing and talking. It had been a long drive, and the heat only barely worked. They all wanted to get inside to the warmth of the bar, plus Lena evidently needed to use the bathroom; she'd reminded them of that fact for the last thirty minutes.

They were greeted almost immediately, shown to a booth, and offered glasses of ice water before being given a food and drink list. Angela collected orders and stood to go to the bar to turn them in. Mei went to join her. Lena, meanwhile, ran off to the bathroom without a word. That left Hana and Fareeha at the table, alone.

Hana wasn't Fareeha's first conversation partner of choice, but it would have to do.

"How old are you again?" Fareeha asked, raising her voice a bit to be heard over the music being broadcasted from the overhead speakers.

Hana chuckled and took a sip of her water, chewing on the end of the straw, "Nineteen." She gave a little shrug with one shoulder, smiling at Fareeha with the straw still between her teeth, "They can serve me alcohol. I checked."

Fareeha crossed her arms, raising her eyebrows with a grin, "You checked?"

"Well, yeah. I want to do things legal, I'm not a criminal."

Fareeha chuckled, "Can you go out to bars in Korea?"

Hana shrugged and set the water glass back on the table, "I mean, yeah. Legal age there is nineteen. But none of my friends go, so I don't go. No fun to go alone, you know?"

Fareeha nodded, "I know."

From her spot across from Hana, Fareeha could see Angela at the bar waiting for their orders. The blonde woman had dressed herself in a nice pair of blue jeans with a purple shirt and a white, form hugging jacket. Her hair was loose from its usual ponytail, and hung around her shoulders in perfect little waves. God, she was beautiful. She had to know she was beautiful...

Hana noticed Fareeha staring past her and turned to get a look at what Fareeha was staring at. She smiled and shook her head, turning back to face Fareeha with a chuckle. She picked up the wrapper that had once been around her straw and chucked it at Fareeha; it bounced off the older woman's forehead just above her eye, making her blink and glare at Hana.

"Hey! What was that for?"

Hana motioned toward Angela with a flick of her head, "You're coming off as really creepy, you know that?"

Fareeha narrowed her eyes, "What are you talking about?"

"I'm not dumb," Hana said, "Nobody is dumb. We all see it."

"See what?"

"Your hopeless romantic crush on Dr. Ziegler."

Fareeha swallowed hard and sighed. Of course Hana would know. Reinhardt had known. Why _wouldn't_ her personal feelings for a woman she'd known most of her life be public knowledge? She shook her head and leaned forward, pressing her forehead against the cold, hard wood of the table in front of her, "Everyone knows. Fuck."

Hana snorted, "It's not like you go out of your way to hide it."

Fareeha's head snapped up and she glared at Hana, "I'm trying to hide it, Hana."

Hana's eyes widened and she laughed, "Really? Wow. You suck at hiding things."

"Hush. Just...hush. I don't want to hear it."

Hana shrugged, "Just tell her."

"It's not that easy."

"It's not?"

"It's not."

"Why not?"

Fareeha sighed and leaned her head in her hand, "Look, she's known me since I was twelve years old. She _babysat_ me, for Christ's sake."

Hana shrugged, shaking her head, "So?"

"So, she probably still sees me as that little kid who used to follow her everywhere and compliment her hair."

Hana gave her a look of pity, "Aw. That's kind of sweet."

Fareeha picked up the wrapper Hana had thrown at her and tossed it back at the teenager, "It's embarassing, hush."

Hana chuckled, "Sweetie, you _need_ to tell her. It's only fair. To both of you."

Fareeha opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by Lena's return from the bathroom. Shortly after Lena took her seat, Mei and Angela came with their food and drinks. Fareeha gave Hana a look that she hoped translated to, "Please don't bring this up with her here." It must have worked, because Hana didn't say a word about it.

They spent the next half hour or so just talking, getting to know one another. Fareeha learned that Lena had a girlfriend back home in London, a lovely woman who was called Emily. She learned that Hana still lived with her parents and was particularly close to her father. She told everyone what she'd been doing over the last couple of years with Helix, and how her last big job had gone (leaving out that her men had all died horrible deaths, of course). She learned all about Mei and what the small woman used to do with Overwatch, before it was shut down. Mei didn't go into too many details, but everyone sitting at this table had heard about the malfunction at Watchpoint: Antarctica. They could fill in the blanks themselves.

After they'd eaten, the drinking _really_ began, and inhibitions began to drop. This was evident in that Angela and Lena were singing karaoke badly and Mei was dancing to it. Fareeha was only just barely managing to sit up straight in her seat, bobbing her head to the music. She didn't drink often and had more than likely made up for that now by drinking way too much. She knew she probably wouldn't remember much in the morning, but she didn't really care.

Right now, she was watching Angela sing.

"Hey."

The voice startled Fareeha and she looked up to see Hana taking a seat across the table from her. The teen raised her eyebrows with a grin and Fareeha briefly wondered how Hana wasn't showing any signs of being drunk.

"You okay?" Hana asked, the grin fading a bit to make way for a look of slight concern.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine," Fareeha managed to slur. She really did feel fine. She wouldn't in the morning, but for now she felt amazing. She looked Hana up and down, trying to get her eyes to focus on the girl. "Have you had anything to drink?"

Hana scoffed, "Oh, yeah. I can hold my liquor."

"Thought you said you don't go to the bar?"

"I don't. My dad's pretty cool, though, he lets me drink at home. I've done lots of drunk streams, the fans _love_ those."

Fareeha raised a brow, "Drunk...streams?"

"Livestreaming," Hana said with a shrug, drawing one leg up and hugging her knee, "Games. You know, my job?"

"Oh," Fareeha said with a nod, " _that_."

Hana sighed, "Hey, can I ask why, exactly, you don't like me?"

This took Fareeha off guard. It wasn't a question she'd been expecting, and on any normal day she'd be hard pressed to find a way to answer it without hurting Hana's feelings. But this was not any normal day. Right now, she was drunk and had no inhibitions.

So she told the truth.

"I like you fine."

It surprised her to hear herself say that. She'd told herself all this time that she disliked Hana Song. The girl was annoying, loud, and had a bad habit of questioning orders. The gaming "career" was a waste of time that wouldn't last her through her twenties, and Fareeha had no idea how or why the Korean government would ever let her drive one of those mechs.

But in the long run, Fareeha had seen those battles. They were usually televised, and it was no secret that Hana livestreamed her view of it to her fans. Fareeha had seen more than one of those streams. Hana had, live on the internet, watched friends die to that giant Omnic. And now, Hana was giving up most of that life to take a big risk and join Overwatch, an action that could ultimately get her put away for a very, very long time were they to get caught.

No. Fareeha didn't dislike Hana.

She understood her.

"We're a lot alike," Fareeha said. Hana gave her a confused face, but said nothing. "You and I. We're a lot alike. We're both ambitious, brave, strong. Sure, I think your so-called career is a waste of time. I don't get it, I'm gong to be frank about that. But I've seen what you've done for your country, and I admire that." She looked the teen right in the eyes, offering what she hoped was a smile through the drunken stupor. Judging by Hana's amused reaction, it only vaguely resembled a smile.

"Thanks," Hana said with a nod, "I was really worried you hated me."

"Is that sarcasm?"

"No. No, it's not. I really look up to you, Fareeha. You're like, the strongest lady here, and it's fucking awesome. I hated that you hated me. Or, I mean, like, I thought you hated me. It sucked."

Fareeha chuckled, "No. I don't hate you. I think you're annoying -- no offense -- but I could never hate you."

Hana scoffed, "Please, if I got upset every time someone called me annoying, I'd be an emotional wreck, like, all the time."

Fareeha adjusted her leather jacket, looking down at herself with a sigh, "I think she's with Genji."

Hana picked at something below her nails, "Hmm? Who?"

"Angela. She loves Genji."

For the second time in two minutes, Hana scoffed, "Please. No she doesn't."

"Yes she does," Fareeha said with a slow, protracted nod, "She's always so happy around him. Laughing, touching his arm. It sucks."

Hana laughed, "Wow, you got it bad."

Fareeha shrugged, "I'm in love, Hana. I love her."

"Wow," Hana said, her eyes widening, "You do got it bad!"

"Yeah, but she's with Genji, so..."

"Ugh, she's not, though," Hana said, shaking her head, "She's totally not."

Fareeha narrowed her eyes at the teen, "How could you possibly know that?"

"I heard her turn him down for a date," Hana said with a shrug. Fareeha sat up a bit straighter in the booth, giving Hana a surprised face. Hana nodded, "Yeah. He asked if there was any way she would consider....you know....them. And she apologized and said no. Apparently there was, like, a thing there years back, but it kinda died."

"How do you know this?"

Hana shrugged, "They totally discussed the whole thing in the rec room, with me right there. I don't think they knew I could hear them, cause they were talking really quiet and I was playing my game, so..."

Fareeha bit her lip and glanced back up at Angela, who was departing from the stage alongside Lena. The audience in the bar were all giving half hearted applause, mostly to be polite; the singing really hadn't been all that good. Whether it was because they were drunk, or because neither of them could actually sing, Fareeha didn't know.

Quite frankly, she didn't care.

She gave the girls a round of applause as they approached the table. Angela gave a little embarrassed chuckle while Lena offered a bow. Mei followed behind the two, still bobbing to the beat of the music that was being used to fill the silence between karaoke acts.

Hana slid down further into the booth to make room for Lena and Mei, while Angela slid in next to Fareeha. Hana gave Fareeha a little wink and gestured slightly toward Angela with her head.

"Haha! I think we killed that, luv!" Lena said offering Angela a high five. Angela reciprocated with a laugh, but said nothing, simply giddy from drunken excitement.

Hana looked around at all of them with a cockeyed grin on her face, "So...uh...who's driving home? Because we're all way too fucking drunk to drive. Right? I mean, right?"

The next karaoke singer began his bad rendition of some Johnny Cash song Fareeha had heard coming from McCree's room on more than one occasion. She'd never been able to hear the muffled lyrics, but she liked the sound of the music itself. It was laid back, relaxing. She leaned back in her seat and rested her head back. It was just too bad the singer sucked. Hazard of karaoke, she supposed.

"Hana's right, we shouldn't drive," Mei slurred before muttering something under her breath in Chinese. She reached up to remove her glasses, fumbling with them as she tried to clean them with her shirt. She'd forgotten to unzip her jacket, however, so she was fighting to find the end of her shirt under it. Luckily, no one seemed to notice this.

"I haven't had much, I can drive," Lena said with a shrug.

Hana raised her brows, "Yeah right, you're going to tell me you went up there and sang karaoke stone cold sober?"

"Not sober, no. Buzzed a bit, sure. I can't drink much, it screws with the accelerator. Anyway, I'm better off than you lot."

Angela shook her head, "No, we should call someone. It's the smartest thing."

Lena nodded, "Okay. I can give Winston a call. See if he'll send someone down. It'll be forty minutes or so, though, snow's started comin' in. Might be hard to drive..."

The words everyone was speaking started blurring together in Fareeha's ears and she began to lose track of who was saying what. She leaned slightly to the right, falling onto Angela's shoulder. Angela smelled nice. She always smelled nice.

"Fareeha, are you all right?" Angela asked. Fareeha could only manage to nod.

"She's very drunk," Hana said with a laugh.

Angela chuckled, "I see that."

"Has anyone seen my glasses?" Mei asked from the end of the booth, looking around with a confused look on her face.

Lena laughed, "They're in your hand, luv," she said, pointing. Sure enough, there they were, resting on Mei's lap in her hand. Mei looked at them and gave a slow nod and a small, "Oh."

"Yes, I think you should call Winston," Angela said with a grin.  
__________________________________________________________________________________

Hana had come to regret bragging about how much she could drink the night before. She woke up the next morning exhausted and with a headache and dry mouth like she couldn't believe. It felt like she'd licked a sheep. A whole flock of them, actually, if she was being honest with herself. She'd had fun, to be sure, but holy crap was she regretting that sixth mojito.

She woke up with her alarm; she'd forgotten that she'd set it and she didn't ever really sleep through it. It wasn't in her nature to do so. Once she told herself she was going to wake up, she woke up.

Even if she didn't want to.

She left her room wearing her pajamas and a pair of bunny slippers, vaguely aware of the fact that her hair made her look like she'd been electrocuted. It was standing up on all ends. She looked like that scientist...what was his name? Einstein? Yeah. She looked like Einstein. For the moment, though, it didn't matter. She wanted coffee more than anything. So she shuffled down the hall like a zombie, specialized "D. Va" mug in hand.

Before she could get to the kitchens, however, she ran into Lucio. Of course he would be here now, while she looked terrible. Because why wouldn't he?

"Hey, Hana, what's up?" Lucio asked, bobbing his head slightly to the music that always seemed to be playing through his headphones. His hair, normally pulled back to a ponytail at the top of his head, fell in a heap to his shoulders, framing his face. Hana liked that face. It was a nice face.

She reminded herself to tell him later to keep his hair down more often.

As of right now, though, she was in no mood to talk. Even if she were, she couldn't, since her mouth felt heavy and dry. Instead she just offered Lucio a small smile and a wave.

"How was your night?" he asked, sidling up beside her and resting his arm around her shoulders. He was sifting through the songs on his music player as the walked.

Hana simply gave a nod and what she hoped was an excited face through her sleepy gloom. She pointed to her throat and gave an apologetic shrug.

Lucio chuckled, "Can't talk, huh?"

Hana shook her head and decided to give it a try. Her voice came out a hoarse, dry whisper, but it got her point across, "Got drunk."

The chuckle turned to a laugh before Lucio got a hold of himself and apologized, "Oh, sorry. You're hungover, I probably didn't help just then by laughing in your face. You need water? Coffee?"

"Coffee," Hana wheezed as they came into the kitchen.

Reinhardt was there, wearing an apron and whistling a little tune as he cooked some eggs. The apron didn't actually cover anything, but it was an adorable, quaint little picture all the same. The big man turned to face Hana and Lucio as they entered, his face lighting up. In one corner, Angela sat slumped in a chair, hugging a coffee mug to her chest and holding her head. She didn't appear to see them come in.

"Ah, Hana!" Reinhardt boomed, causing Hana to wince a little. She liked the big guy, but boy was he ever loud, "Would you like some eggs?"

Truthfully, that sounded awful right now. She would probably throw up if she put anything on her stomach, let alone eggs. She didn't say this out loud though and instead shook her head.

"She can't talk right now, Rein," Lucio said, moving forward to pull a chair out for Hana, "Dry mouth." He eased Hana down into the chair, even though she didn't need the help, and moved toward Reinhardt at the counter, "I'd like some though! How's that coffee lookin'?"

"It's ready!" Reinhardt said, motioning toward the coffee maker with a grin, "You ladies had fun last night, then, yes?"

Hana nodded, "Yes."

"Reinhardt. Please." Angela moaned from her spot in the corner, "Just...please."

Reinhardt chuckled, "Ah, I'm sorry, my dear."

Lucio filled Hana's mug with coffee and brought it to her, setting it down in front of her with a grin, "Cream? Sugar?"

Hana shook her head, "I'm good." She took a long swill of the hot liquid, allowing it to pour down her throat. It did very little for the dry mouth, but did wonders for waking her up.

"Lucio, there is aspirin in that cupboard there," Angela said, motioning vaguely to a cupboard across from her, "Get that girl some water and two of those, for her headache." She paused, "And grab some for me, while you're at it."

Lucio nodded, "Yes, ma'am."

He went to work gathering cups for water and digging through the cupboard for the aspirin that supposedly rested inside.

"Is anyone else up?" Hana asked Angela, her voice only marginally better now that she'd gotten some kind of liquid down her throat.

Angela shrugged, "Fareeha is still out cold. I am not certain about Lena or Mei."

"Mei came through here and made some tea," Reinhardt said, as he lifted the pan from the burner. He separated the eggs inside onto three different plates, handed one to Angela, and set the other two at the table across from Hana. Lucio, who had finally found the pills, gave Angela a glass of water and two aspirin, then offered Hana the same before sitting down to eat.

Hana furrowed her brow as she looked at Angela scarf down the eggs, "Doesn't that make you sick?"

Angela shook her head, "Not at all. It's an odd thing, but it actually helps."

Hana shuddered, "That would make me vomit so fast."

Reinhardt laughed.

"You sleep okay?" Lucio asked, looking Hana over.

Hana nodded and laid her hand on top of one of his, "I slept fine, thanks. You're worried over nothing. It's just a little hangover, I'm not dying."

Lucio shrugged, "Yeah, but you're usually so, like, put together. It's weird seein' you with your hair all in your face and stuff. You look like Einstein or something."

"That's what I thought, too," Hana said with a chuckle.

At that moment, Genji walked in, offering everyone a small nod of hello through his mask. Genji honestly freaked Hana out. He didn't talk much. He just sort of sat and watched people as they moved around the Watchpoint. Hana constantly wondered what was under that mask, and she longed to know the whole story behind why he'd been altered in such a way. Did he ask to become part Omnic? Did he die and get rebuilt? Was it done willingly, or was the whole process some kind of sick torture?

She quietly shuddered. Okay, maybe she didn't want to know.

"Good morning," Genji said, moving toward Angela, "How are you feeling, Angela?"

Angela shrugged, "I'm hungover, so as well as I can be, I suppose."

Genji chuckled, "I have never seen you drink before."

"That would be because I don't normally drink," Angela said, running a hand through her hair. She offered Genji a smile and took his hand, giving it a light squeeze, "I'll be fine. I just might have to sleep for the next year or so to get there." She looked past Genji, around Lucio, to Hana, who was watching them, "How are you feeling?"

Hana shrugged, "I'm good." She took another sip of coffee and wondered, briefly, how Fareeha would feel watching Angela and Genji hold hands like that.

For two people who weren't dating, they were awfully chummy...

"You gonna be up for some games later?" Lucio asked through a mouth full of eggs.

Reinhardt gently smacked Lucio in the back of the head, giving him a disapproving look, "Don't talk with your mouth full, boy. It's rude."

Lucio looked up at Reinhardt with a face that betrayed a hint of amusement, "Ha, sorry, gramps."

Hana chuckled, "Yeah, I'm down, Lucio. I gotta go change first. Maybe shower."

Lucio nodded, "Yeah, you'd best get on that girl," he pinched his nose with one hand, waving the other in front of his face, "You stink! Woo!"

Hana smacked him in the shoulder with a laugh, "Hey, don't be mean!" She gathered up her coffee, chugged the aspirin back with some water, and stood to leave, "I'm gonna go get ready, okay? I'll be back down in a bit." She leaned down so she was face to face with Lucio, "I've got a record to take back."

"Ha! Good luck!" Lucio said, leaning forward a bit.

Hana blew air out through her nose and shook her head, grinning, "Don't be an ass." Then she leaned down and kissed him, gently, on the lips before standing up and leaving the room.

Lucio watched her go, his eyes roaming a bit south, toward her backside. She hated it when he checked her out that way, but what could he say? The girl had a nice booty. He glanced around when he began to feel everyone's eyes on him; all three of the other people in the room were looking at him with surprise.

"What?" he asked with a shrug.

"She kissed you," Reinhardt said quickly, his mouth slightly agape.

Lucio chuckled, "Well, yeah. I mean...yeah."

"How long has that been going on?" Genji asked.

"A while. I don't know. Is there something wrong with it?"

"Not at all," Angela said, giving him a small smile.

"I just never thought she'd go for you," Reinhardt said in a joking tone.

"What's that mean?"

"You're quite a bit older, are you not?"

Lucio shrugged, "Not by much. It's not a big deal. Look, I like her, okay? She's a sweetheart. I wanna make her happy."

Angela chuckled, "I think you are. She seems to really like you as well. I was wondering if there wasn't something between you two."

"You really didn't know? Because I mean, we didn't hide it," Lucio said, looking between all three of them with a confused grin, "Like, we didn't even try to hide it."

Reinhardt gobbled down a few more of his eggs, "You never answered Genji's question," he said through a full mouth.

"What happened to not talking with your mouth full?"

Reinhardt laughed, "I'm old, I do what I want. I'd like to know the answer to Genji's question."

"What question?"

"How long has this been going on?" Genji repeated, amusement oozing from his voice.

Lucio shrugged again and stood to put his empty plate in the sink, "I dunno, like, a couple weeks? Maybe a month?"

"Well, I think it's sweet," Angela said, "You two make a cute couple."

Lucio chuckled and leaned against the sink, looking at the door through which Hana had just left, "Yeah, we kinda do, don't we?"  
__________________________________________________________________________________

Mei wasn't sure why she'd agreed to join the other girls for a drink, but she'd done it, and now she was regretting it. A lot.

She didn't normally drink on a regular basis. Oh, she could certainly hold her liquor, but once she reached a certain level of drunk, she became an angry little demon by all accounts. And her hangovers were the absolute worst. She remembered working with a guy in Antarctica who would drink everyone under the table and wake up the next morning refreshed and ready to go, without a hangover. He even still managed to be one of the hardest working members of her team without fail.

She wished she knew his secret now.

It had been a nice night, from what little she could remember of it. Angela had invited all of the ladies out to a bar in town, just south of the Watchpoint. It had been a ladies' night, of sorts, and it had been a lot of fun.

Well, what little of it Mei could remember had been fun.

All Mei knew in this moment was that her head was killing her and she needed a place to relax. She would never be able to get any actual work done like this, so she decided to head upstairs to the library/study area of the Watchpoint to get some reading done. Or maybe fall asleep in one of the really comfortable chairs up there, she didn't care.

As long as it was quiet.

She trudged into the library after having made a pit stop in the kitchen to get herself some tea, and sat down at one of the chairs that faced the large window at one end of the room. The window overlooked the mountain range that sprawled out before the Watchpoint. A light snowfall was beginning to dust the trees outside and clouds swirled over the tops of some of the higher peaks. Mei snuggled down into the chair, thankful for the warmth inside the Watchpoint itself, and gave a contented sigh. She liked the snow.

A book, some tea, and a light snowfall were all she needed to hopefully relax and try to get rid of this stupid hangover...

She'd just opened her book and taken a sip of the hot beverage in her hand when she was startled out of her skin by the presence of another person inside the library she hadn't seen before.

"G'day!"

She yelped and just barely managed to keep from scalding herself out of surprise. The book in her hand fell, bounced out of her lap, and hit the floor.

Peeking over the back of one of the couches that faced one of the huge bookshelves surrounding a giant fireplace, looking at her with that manic grin, was none other than Junkrat.

He was absolutely the _last_ person on Earth Mei had expected to find here, in the library. Yet here he was, sitting on the couch the way a child would and yelling his greetings to her as though they were friends.

Yelling. Very loudly.

He was too loud for her today.

"Junkrat," Mei said, clutching her heart, " _What_ are you doing in here?"

Junkrat shrugged, "Nothin'. Sittin'. Readin'."

Mei raised her eyebrows, "You read?"

"When the occasion calls fer it, sure." He pushed himself up off the couch and limped toward her, his prosthetic leg making a thumping noise as he moved. It also squeaked whenever the joint bent. It was loud.

Mei's head pounded with every movement he made.

He needed to stop being so _loud_.

She must have made some kind of face, because Junkrat stopped in his tracks and crossed his arms over his chest, giving her an amused grin, "Are you drunk or somethin', mate?"

Mei shook her head, then quickly thought twice at the movement and decided that sitting back in her chair was the better option. She leaned back and closed her eyes, pressing the thumb and middle finger of her left hand to her temples and giving a light squeeze, "No, I'm not drunk. Please go away."

The leg began to squeak again as he thumped his way closer toward her. She could feel, rather than see, the fabric of the chair cave forward a bit against her back as he leaned down against the back of the chair, "Hungover, then?"

"Please, go away," Mei said, whining more than she'd intended to, "Please. I have a headache, and you are very loud."

Junkrat chuckled, and she felt him push himself up off of the chair, "Sorry 'bout that, mate," he said, amusement oozing from every word, "Your little Ladies' Night turned out nice, mmm? Lotsa fun?"

Mei sighed. She had the distinct feeling that he was just going to mess with her until she actually spoke with him. "Yes, it was fun," she said in the most irritated way she could muster.

"So you _are_ hungover, then?" Junkrat asked, "Just, you know, double checking."

"Yes, okay? I'm hungover. Now please, shut up."

Junkrat gave a manic little giggle, "Never thought I'd see the day where you, of all people, would be hungover. You strike me as a bit too prim n'proper to actually drink, sweetheart."

Mei finally opened her eyes and looked over at Junkrat, who was standing a bit closer to her than she'd anticipated. It startled her, but she physically kept herself from jumping at his close proximity, "Are you going to just stand there all day making fun of me?"

Junkrat shrugged, "Well, whatever works."

With a frustrated sigh, Mei picked up her book and gathered her tea, standing to leave. She was dizzy and wanted nothing more than to relax, but Junkrat was ruining her happy place and she wouldn't stand by and let it happen. She'd return to work if she had to, maybe sit in the rec room and hope it wasn't too loud. She couldn't sit here in the library, alone with Junkrat, knowing he was judging her.

Him, of all people.

She made to push by him but Junkrat gently touched the inside of her elbow. She jerked away from him, giving him a glare, "Hey, hold up, it's fine. I'll go," he said, "I'll go, you stay here, nurse your hangover."

Mei looked up at him, narrowing her eyes. He was so much taller than she was. She always forgot just how tall he was until she found herself face to face with him. Even now, as he slumped forward, he still towered over her. Torbjorn had given him an ultimatum to clean himself up or not step foot into the shop, so he'd actually managed to get some of the grime that had covered his body scrubbed off. He no longer stank of body odor and dirt, but of grease and faint smoke; still not a pleasant stench, but much more bearable than he had been on that flight from Sydney and in the weeks that followed. Mei would have to thank Torbjorn later for getting the Junker to bathe. From this angle, and standing this close, she could just barely make out the freckles that dotted his cheeks and nose, and his eyes were actually quite pretty in color.

"You're...actually going to go?" she asked, giving him a sidelong glare.

Junkrat huffed, grinning, "What, you think I'm gonna like, murder you or somethin'? Calm down, darlin', I'm gonna leave." He took a step back, away from her, and gave a shrug, "You got a headache, and I ain't the type people want around when they're sick, so. I'm leaving."

Well, now she felt bad for kicking him out. He'd been there first, it wasn't fair that she make him leave. She shook her head, looking down at her feet, "No, it's fine. You don't need to go, just...be quiet. Okay? Try not to speak so loudly."

Junkrat's brows shot up and he gave her a little grin, "I'm growin' on ya, eh?" he asked, sticking his tongue out slightly.

Mei rolled her eyes, "Ugh. Like a fungus, perhaps. Just sit over there and don't talk."

Junkrat shrugged, "I make no promises, darlin'."

He turned, nearly falling over his peg leg, and made to sit back on the couch he'd apparently been resting on before. Mei watching him for a few seconds, then headed back to the comfort of her chair. She wanted to watch the snow fall and read her book. She hoped Junkrat wouldn't ruin that for her.

No sooner had she taken her seat than Junkrat's head popped back up over the back of the couch, "Hey, your name was Mei, right?"

Mei rolled her eyes, tried her best not to look at him, "Yes."

"Ah, nice. Pretty. It's Chinese?"

At this, Mei sat forward in her chair and glared around the back at Junkrat, who visibly withered at the look on her face, "I asked you not to talk."

"Yes, you did. And I said I made no promises."

He did say that, it was true. She didn't know how she'd expected anything else, in all honesty. She sighed and adjusted her glasses, "Yes, it's Chinese. Any other questions before I read my book?" she asked, holding the book up next to her face so he could see it, as though trying to get her point across, "Once I start reading this, I won't indulge you any longer."

Junkrat snorted, "No, mate. No more questions," he said slowly, turning his head to look at her sideways with a grin, as though trying to gauge her.

"Good." Mei said, "Then stop. Talking."

Surprisingly enough, he did actually stop his talking, and for the next fifteen minutes Mei was able to sit in her chair and read. The tea was nice and warm, the weather outside was nice and cold, and the only sounds in the room were the pages of books turning and the occasional squeak of Junkrat's leg as he moved around on the couch. Eventually Mei fell asleep, slumed forward in the chair with the book balancing precariously on her lap and her glasses slipping from her face.

She didn't know how long she slept like that; when she awoke, her book was on the table beside her, the last page she'd left off on dog-eared to help her find her spot, and her glasses were folded up next to the book. Her tea had cooled to the point that it didn't taste very good anymore, but next to the teacup was a glass of water. She inhaled, wiping at her mouth, and sat up straight in the chair. There was a pain in her neck and her shoulders were stiff, but her headache was more or less gone. She felt leagues better than she had when she'd woken up that morning, so there was progress.

The real mystery now was, how did her book and glasses wind up so perfectly placed on the end table? She was fairly certain she hadn't put them there...

"Good nap?" Junkrat asked.

Mei leaned forward in the chair and grabbed her glasses, unfolding them to put them on. Junkrat was standing next to a nearby bookshelf, looking over a series of history books.

"What are you doing?" Mei asked, blinking a few times to try to get her eyes to adjust.

Junkrat turned to face her, haphazardly placing the book in his hands back on the shelf, "I was lookin' at yer books. Learnin' history." He raised his eyebrows, "Am I not allowed to do that?"

Mei sighed and waved her hand toward him, "No, it's fine."

"Did you have a good nap?" Junkrat asked again, emphasizing each word to get the point across that she hadn't answered the question.

Mei narrowed her eyes, "Why?"

Junkrat chuckled, giving a shrug, "Was wonderin' how yer headache was doin'. If the nap helped." He shook his head at her, "I was just askin', mate."

Mei sighed, "The nap was nice, yes. Believe it or not, I get most of my best sleep here."

"Nah, I get that. It's quiet. I've heard people like quiet when they sleep." He began to pace a short distance, the leg squeaking with each movement. At least it wasn't making her head pound this time, "Least, Roadie likes quiet when he sleeps. Tells me a lot whenever he kicks me outta our room at night..."

"He kicks you out of your own room?"

"All the fuckin' time, mate. I'm used to it. We're not accostumed to comfy beds, but he seems to enjoy 'em lots whenever we find one. He always yells at me when he's comfy and tryin' to sleep."

Mei couldn't help but chuckle a bit, giving a genuine smile. There was something rather endearing in the way Junkrat spoke about Roadhog.

Junkrat stopped his pacing, giving her a grin, "Be careful, darlin' yer face is starting to crack."

Mei rolled her eyes, "Shut up, I smile all the time."

"Not to me. Usually yer all scowl-y and stuff when I'm around. I mean, I get it, I'm not the easiest guy to like. Don't worry about that, it's not a deal. Just don't act weird when I'm surprised to see you smile, yeah?"

Those words stung. Mei prided herself on being a kind, compassionate person. She also knew what it was like to be the kind of person who rubbed people the wrong way. During her stint in Antarctica, before the incident, Mei's coworkers didn't really seem to see her as a friend. She was only marginally involved in whatever small social life they could carve out for themselves in that snow filled crater. She had always been smarter than a lot of the people she worked with, and she'd always been painfully shy. Every time she tried to push past that shy side of her, she came off as awkward. It certainly wasn't to the extent Junkrat seemed to see himself, but it had hurt, knowing she was an outsider among people she was forced to live with.

She hadn't been exactly kind to Junkrat over the last two months.

She'd formed a rather grudging respect for Roadhog, but she didn't like to be around the smaller Junker for the most part. She didn't know anything about him, because she hadn't bothered to learn.

The fact that he had to point out her blatant disrespect was just...painful.

It stung like a slap to the face.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Wha -- for what?"

"For being so disrespectful toward you."

Junkrat wrapped one arm around his stomach and let out a loud belly laugh, "Oh. Oh, darlin', you're fine. You didn't hurt my feelin's or nothin', I get it. You don't like me. It's fine."

"It's not fine."

"It is. Really."

"How could it possibly be fine?"

Junkrat shrugged, "People don't like me. I'm...loud. And weird. I smell, don't think I don't know I smell. People wanna kill me because I'm so fuckin' obnoxious, I get it. You don't like me, it's fine." He gave her a smile, "I'm serious, love, it's perfectly fine."

Mei swallowed and hoped her face didn't betray the pity she felt for him in this moment. How could someone go through life just being okay with not being liked? It didn't make any sense. She'd heard Reinhardt make mention of the fact that the Junker had distrusted a genuine show of compassion, believing he wanted something in return. What was it like to go through life being completely unable to understand genuine friendship?

She reached for her book and stood to leave. According to the clock on the wall, she'd been asleep for about forty minutes. She needed to go back to her labs and get some work done.

"You gonna drink that water?" Junkrat asked, "It might help if you still got a headache. Helps with the dry mouth, too, hangovers are a _bitch_."

Mei furrowed her brow and looked him up and down, "You did that?"

"Yeah. You almost dropped yer book, too, so I marked it and put it there."

"And my glasses?"

He shrugged, "They were gonna fall off. I mean, I'm sorry. I figured you wouldn't want 'em on the floor..."

Mei held up a hand to stop him from speaking, "Okay. It's fine. Thank you." She moved back over to the table and picked up the glass of water, holding it out to Junkrat with a smile as though offering cheers, then headed for the library exit without a word. Behind her, she could hear Junkrat's leg squeaking and thumping as he moved back toward the shelf.

She sighed. She'd have to be nicer to him.

Annoying as he was, he deserved more than she'd been offering...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yes. This is a LucioxD. Va story. Or "bunnyribbit," whatever you want to call it.
> 
> Throughout the many, many rewrites I've done chapter by chapter, I did a lot of little side chapters I didn't wind up using that involved Hana and Lucio interacting. I hadn't shipped them before that, but dammit all to hell if they weren't absolutely ADORABLE together. I had to make it canon in the story.


	13. A Wolf's Assistance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm incredibly depressed this week and have nothing to do but write.
> 
> So, have a chapter much earlier than you otherwise would have!
> 
> Enjoy!

Ana wasn't usually one to use her age to garner sympathy; she was no frail old woman, she could handle herself in a fight. But she was also no idiot. She knew her strengths and her weaknesses. She couldn't take on nearly two dozen gang members by herself without a weapon. That was more suited to Jack's level of expertise, and even he would have a hard time of it without a gun. In this situation, it would be best for her to use her advanced age to her advantage, play to the Junkers' senses of humanity and whatever compassion hopefully remained in their hearts.

She didn't know much about the Junkers, except that they were usually all criminals. She didn't like the blanket generalization that they were all stupid; they had to be smart in some way if they'd survived in the radiation-soaked Outback for so long. They were certainly crazy, from what she'd seen, maybe even psychopathic.

She hoped she could appeal to something in them. It was her only chance at escape.

First order of business was finding someone who would be willing to untie her, even if it was only for a few moments. It was all she needed to make a quick break out of there; she could run, find a place to contact Fareeha and get Overwatch to send someone to rescue Jack. It wasn't a fool proof plan, by any means. It was very likely that they would recapture her, and this time she might not survive it. It was, however, the only plan she had.

Fuse proved completely unswayed; Ana had asked her captor to untie her long enough to use the bathroom, and all it had earned her was a swift backhand across the face and some derogatory name calling. Ana could now taste blood in her mouth and it was probably going to bruise. It had been her good side too, the Junker bitch...

Three days passed before she was able to pull someone aside who seemed to have some amount of empathy. It was a girl, right around Fareeha's age, who had been sent over to make sure Ana got some water. The young woman's name was Stevie, and she was nice enough. During her entire conversation with the girl, however brief, Ana kept wondering how someone so genuinely careful and attentive could be in a Junker gang such as this. Stevie was kind and soft spoken; Ana couldn't picture the girl wielding a gun and grinning maniacally in the face of an innocent person as she threatened to shoot them.

Stevie had been willing to cut Ana loose "just long enough to do your business"; the younger woman led her older captive to a small outcrop of bushes where she would have a bit of privacy but where Stevie could watch over her to prevent escape.

The thing Ana was most grateful at this point was that the ropes were gone. Her hands had been bound tightly behind her back for the duration of her time with the Junkers, and it was beginning to take its toll on her. Her arms, shoulders, back, and hips were all sore, a sign of her advancing age, she supposed. Granted, she'd never been kept tied up for three days at a time before, but she doubted she would have been this sore back in her twenties and thirties if she'd ever found herself in a situation such as this. Then again, maybe the sore muscles and aching bones came with the territory. She wouldn't know.

Again, being held captive for three days was kind of new to her.

What mattered right now was that she was free to move around. Stevie was standing directly outside the bushes Ana had disappeared into, but for the most part the young woman had no idea what Ana was actually doing in there. The two of them were just on the edge of the Junker encampment, with open freedom just on the other side of those bushes Ana was hiding in.

She took a few deep breaths to steady herself. She would only have one shot at this. Jack would just have to forgive her for leaving him behind; she couldn't conceivably rescue him while simultaneously trying to escape herself. _One_ of them was going to be left behind. The fact of the matter was, Jack had more of a chance of surviving until rescue than she did. She only wished she'd had a chance to discuss it with him but the Junkers had made sure to keep them apart. Truth be told, Ana was only _hoping_ Jack was still alive at this point. She hadn't actually seen him since Fuse had knocked him out and tied the both of them up. There was every chance that Fuse had simply had Jack killed. Ana doubted it, but it wasn't out of the realm of possibility.

A large rock the size of Ana's fist was sitting nicely next to her under that bush. Ana swallowed. Well, at least she'd have _something_ on her side here. She picked it up, gave it a squeeze.

"Forgive me," she muttered to herself. She wasn't sure if she was speaking to Jack for leaving him behind, Stevie for what she was about to do, or maybe both. She didn't have time to think about it.

Without a word, Ana stood and swung, colliding her fist and the rock inside it with the back of Stevie's head. The young woman dropped like a sack of bricks, and Ana could only hope she hadn't killed her. That poor girl deserved so much more than dying to a head injury in the middle of rural Australia.

Before they'd been attacked, Jack had made plans to stop and resupply in a small town just north of where they'd made camp. Ana didn't have the exact coordinates, but she figured she would find something if she just continued along the road they'd been following. She didn't hesitate to give Stevie her apologies, instead running as fast as she could away from the Junker camp. All she could do was hope she would be able to come back for Jack.

All she could do was hope they wouldn't kill him.

She couldn't fight them all, and she couldn't get her hands on her weapons. She was alone, which she was used to, but she was also vulnerable. Ana Amari wasn't used to vulnerable. She had only shown genuine vulnerability to one person in her entire life, and she had been _incredibly_ comfortable with that person for many, many years and was sharing his bed before she showed him that side of herself.

Oh, Reinhardt. How she missed him.

She'd only been running for a few minutes before she heard the scream of rage behind her; Fuse had discovered her prisoner missing, how grand. Ana pulled herself together and managed to gather enough strength to drag herself in behind a rocky outcropping that overlooked the camp. She was tired, hungry, and thirsty; dehydration was a definite problem here. Fear had always been her best friend. She harnessed it to her will and used it as a tool to come out on top. This, however, was a different situation.

She was blindly afraid, and she didn't know how to stop it.

She didn't want Fuse to find her. She didn't want Fuse to kill Jack. She wanted her weapons. She wanted her men at her side and watching her back.

She'd been alone before. She could handle herself, she'd always been able to handle herself...

The rocks shifting above her sent that knot of fear in her stomach into a writhing panic and she looked up, completely prepared to have one of Fuse's men pounce on her from above. No one was there when she tried to find the source of the shift, however. She moved along the rock face, keeping her eyes above her to find whatever was up there.

Wild animals might be worse than the Junker gang, without weapons in hand...

Whatever had made its home in the rocky outcropping was probably scared off by Fuse's shrill angry call. Ana pushed herself back against the rock, hoping that the shade would hide her enough in her dark clothing to keep Fuse from investigating too much. Ana was more than two hundred yards from the camp, but it wasn't far enough. Running any further would put her into an open field, where any number of the Junkers would be able to see her and shoot her down. Granted, from what she remembered seeing in Sydney against Overwatch, it didn't look like any of the Junkers were snipers by any means, but all it would take would be one bullet. Just one bullet to any part of her body to keep her from running.

Bullets tended to do that to a person.

The big guy that Fuse had called Sway came into Ana's view and her breath stopped in her throat. He was less than a hundred feet away from her, gun in hand. She was out in the open, hiding in shade provided by a stupid rocky outcropping. All he had to do was turn slightly to the left, look over his shoulder...

Which was, of course, what he started to do.

Ana tensed up, preparing to attack. At least if she was to get caught again, she wouldn't go back to that camp without a fight. If they planned on killing her, she would try to take as many of them down with her as she could. She might fail, but at least she would make them hurt.

She was scared, she was tired, she was thirsty and hungry...

But more than that, Ana Amari was fucking _**DONE**_.

She was done being treated like a prisoner by people who should be locked up in a psych ward somewhere. She was done being beaten up and tossed around. Her biggest hope had been that she could get away scott free and find help, find someone who could get back here with her and rescue Jack. She was tired of being fearful, of being mistreated. Yes, she was scared and she was cornered like an animal. But she would not go down without a fight.

Harness the fear, Ana. Get a hold of yourself and _fight. Back._

Sway turned, saw her. His foggy blue eyes met her one good brown eye. They were both people who had weathered whatever awful things life had thrown at them. They were both fighters, both survivors. They were both very angry.

And they were both ready for a fight.

Sway didn't get to fight, however, because as he chuckled maniacally and took a step toward Ana, an arrow flew from over her head and embedded itself into Sway's throat.

Sway gave a surprised gasp, grasped at the arrow as blood spewed from the wound, then fell to the ground in a heap. The being that had been prowling around on the rocks above Ana made its presence known and jumped down in front of her, facing Sway's body.

It was a man, relatively short, all lean muscle and dark hair. His hair was pulled back to a short ponytail, and he was dressed in dark, loose clothing that draped over him and left his left shoulder and part of his chest exposed. A large dragon tattoo covered his left arm, and a quiver of arrows was strung across his back. He held a bow in one hand, which Ana felt was an odd choice of weapon.

Not that she was complaining. This man had most likely just saved her life. She wasn't going to call him out on the method he'd used to do so.

The man turned to face her, glaring at her over his shoulder. Ana stood a bit taller, drawing herself up to her full height. She wasn't entirely sure what this man's intentions were or who's side he was on, but she wasn't about to give him the idea that she was weak. He looked her up and down, turning to fully face her.

"Your name," he said. It wasn't a question, but a demand.

Ana narrowed her eyes. It was an odd thing to demand when people were actively hunting her down, but she supposed she could comply. He did, after all, just save her from Sway.

"Ana."

The man narrowed his eyes in return, a look that made him look more angry than openly suspicious. "Ana," he repeated, giving her a slight nod, "Come with me."

Without warning, he jumped off the rocky outcropping to the ground a few feet below. The movement was graceful, almost cat-like. No. Not cat-like. Wolfish. That was what he reminded Ana of: a wolf. He was quiet and calm, calculating and cold. Ana didn't know if she could trust him in the long run, but for right now she had no choice but to follow.

She jumped down behind him and didn't quite stick the landing. Instead she fell awkwardly to one side, reaching to the rocks for support. The man's hand wrapped like a vice around her right arm, pulling her to her feet. He gave her a look she couldn't quite read, then let her go, turned on his heel, and walked away from the outcropping toward the woods.

The wrong way. He was going the exact wrong way from where Ana wanted to go.

But she didn't have a choice. She was clearly over her head here, and he was armed and willing to help her. She looked out toward that open field and hoped desperately that she wasn't making a horrible mistake.

She looked back toward where she'd left the camp behind, where she'd left Jack behind, and hoped the same.

"I'm sorry, Jack," she whispered.

Then she turned and followed her new companion into the trees, the sounds of Fuse's desperate search echoing in her ears behind her.  
__________________________________________________________________________________

He'd planned on leaving.

He'd had no reason to stay, after the old couple had been apprehended. He'd had no reason to keep watching them. They were no longer a viable option to help him find Overwatch -- to help him find his brother -- and so he had planned on moving along and leaving the old couple to their fate.

What was it to him if they lived or died?

There was a time, a long while ago, where Hanzo Shimada would have left them behind. Hell, there was a time where he was no better than those Junkers himself, where he would have been the person holding someone hostage. But he was a different man now, despite everything he'd tried to tell himself. He couldn't just leave. He'd been tracking the old couple for weeks when the Junkers had attacked them. The attack had been completely out of the blue, and had even surprised Hanzo; despite the fact that he was in a position to have seen it long before it happened, he hadn't seen it. The gang was good at hunting their prey.

So he'd tried to move on. He was only one man, after all. What could he do against a whole group?

And yet, he felt bad.

He wasn't used to being swayed by the sound of panicked screams, but the desperate cries from the older woman as her companion was overpowered had somehow tugged at him. He couldn't leave, knowing that those two would be stuck with that gang of Junkers with no way out.

Besides which, they were his only link to finding Genji.

So he'd gone back. He'd set himself up right back on that rocky outcropping that overlooked the camp (which had now been overrun by the Junkers), and he watched and waited. He had to admit that he didn't have a plan. He just wanted to make sure the woman who seemed to be in charge wouldn't kill her captives. He needed them alive. Around the second day he wondered exactly what he was doing; he had no plan and he had no reason to help, why was he here?

_Because Genji would be_.

His younger brother would stand beside this pair, no matter what. Hanzo believed that more than anything. Genji would have found a way to help someone, even if it took days or weeks to do it. He'd always been that way. Scatterbrained, messy, obnoxious, loud: Genji Shimada had been all of those things. He was also brave, kind, determined, and empathetic, however. Even before Hanzo had killed him -- _thought_ he'd killed him, apparently. That was so hard to comprehend -- Genji had been the favorite. A chain of morality for their father.

And, admittedly, one for Hanzo as well.

So he'd stayed, because Genji would have stayed. He stayed because he wanted to be able to tell Genji, when they finally met again, that he did something good.

It came as a relief when he'd watched the old woman run. At least now he could find a way to pick them off, one by one. He watched her make a break for the very same outcropping on which he was hiding, climbing up to a spot a few feet off the ground at the back. She was only a few hundred yards from the camp, yet she'd stopped. How odd. She was unarmed and clearly hurt. Why would she risk getting caught again...?

Hanzo moved down the rocks to get a better look at her; his foot slipped a bit and the rock shifted, sending pebbles down onto the old woman's head. She looked up, but couldn't see him from where he was pressed against the rock face. It occured to him that he could come out and make himself seen; he was no longer hiding from her, after all. Instead he stayed.

Then came the large Junker, barreling around the backside of the rock formation. The large man's eyes fell on the old woman, and Hanzo reacted instantly.

The big man fell, a look of surprise on his face as he bled out from the wound.

A feeling of triumph flowed over Hanzo's body. There was nothing quite like a good, clean kill. It was a feeling he could perhaps never be rid of, the adrenaline rush he always got when he took a life. Even when he'd murdered his own brother, that feeling had swelled inside him; he'd won the fight, he'd taken something that had belonged to his opponent...

It was only later, after the deed was done, that he felt what he should have felt as he was doing it: disgust. Regret. Sorrow.

He hated himself for feeling so high when he took the life of that Junker.

But he couldn't help it. It felt good.

He jumped down before the old woman, turning to face her. She was very pretty, for someone of such an advanced age. Hanzo could see where she had probably been incredibly beautiful in her youth, the envy of any man. She gave off an air that reminded him of his own mother, which was both good and bad in a lot of ways. His mother had been bossy, overbearing, and nosy. But she'd also taken care of him when he'd needed her most as a child, and she'd been very kind to both him and his brother. No matter what his father said about his mother, Hanzo always missed her after she'd passed on.

"Your name," Hanzo demanded of the woman. He'd need to know who he'd been following all this time.

She seemed hesitant, but gave it anyway, "Ana."

Her voice was low, calm, deep. She was good at hiding her fear. Probably a former soldier of some kind.

"Ana," Hanzo repeated, tasting the word on his tongue. Oh, he knew English perfectly well, but names outside of his own culture were often fascinating to him. "Ana" was a very pretty name. It rolled off the tongue well. "Come with me."

He jumped down off the rocks to the ground a few feet below, absorbing the fall to minimize injury to his ankles and knees. The old woman wasn't so lucky; Hanzo decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and assume she'd lost balance because she was weak from starvation over the last three days, and not because she was getting on in age. Nevertheless, he reached out to help her almost out of impulse, quickly pulling away when it became clear she would be able to stand.

She hadn't asked for his name in return. What that meant, he wasn't sure.

He led her off into the nearby woods, moving through the trees at a steady pace; despite the fact that she was clearly injured and weak, Ana kept up well. Behind them, Hanzo could hear the Junkers giving chase. If he could get them alone, or even in groups of two or three, he could handle them. If they came out all at once, he was bound to lose. There were at least two dozen of them, if not more. They'd overtake him in a matter of seconds as a group...

This was a stupid thing to do.

He should have left when he'd had the chance.

"We need to find a computer," Ana panted from behind him, "I have someone I can contact for help."

Hanzo huffed, "You do not think they would track you to the nearest town? We must remain hidden."

"My friend is still back there," Ana said, "I can't just leave him while we stay in hiding. They will kill him." She stopped in her tracks just then and Hanzo turned to face her. Was this woman insane? They were being actively hunted and she wanted to go to a computer lab to send an email? It was silly. Nevertheless, Ana's face held an air of determination as she glared at Hanzo. "I'm not leaving him behind. And besides that, a populated area will keep them off our trail for a while. Even if they can track us into town, they won't risk doing anything too stupid until they can plan around law enforcement."

"What makes you think they would not simply raid the town?"

Ana shrugged, "I'm guessing, at this point. But if they find us, alone, you can be certain they'll attack right away. If we can take shelter in town it might scare them off long enough for my friends to come."

Hanzo gave her a skeptical look, glancing out at the trees around them. He could still hear the Junkers yelling -- judging by the sounds of hysterical screaming, they'd just found their man's body -- but they'd run far enough by now that it was just background noise. He knew Ana was right, of course. A populated area, no matter how rural, would protect them for a little while.

Besides, it was Australia. If the Junkers attacked, someone in town was bound to have weapons to fight back.

He was about to open his mouth to agree when Ana continued on with her argument, "Besides which, you murdered their friend. From what I know of Fuse, she will not take that well. She _will_ follow you. She _will_ kill you. I can promise you that."

Hanzo huffed again, shaking his head, "And you think your friends can help with that?"

"They can protect you from her. If not outright rid you of her presence altogether."

He looked the old woman up and down, forcing back the urge to give her an approving smile. He liked her. She was feisty, smart. It was no small wonder she'd survived this long with her friend in the wilderness. If the old man was anything like her, it was amazing they'd been captured at all.

This Fuse person was either the smartest criminal in the world, or else had gotten extremely lucky.

Based on what he knew of Junkers as a whole, Hanzo was willing to bet on lucky.

"You know where town is?" Hanzo questioned. If the answer was no, then they'd have to go back to his plan of running and hiding for the next few days.

"I have a rough idea," Ana said, pointing off to her right with a small shrug, "Somewhere that direction. I figure if we stay close enough to the road, we should come upon it soon enough."

"Somewhere that direction?" Hanzo repeated, looking skeptical.

"It's the best I've got," Ana said.

Hanzo chewed his tongue, thinking. At the very least, they would come across a petrol station that might have a computer she could use. Or maybe a phone. Something, anything to contact her friends. It was better than his idea, or lack thereof.

Not that he'd admit that out loud, of course.

"All right," he said, rolling his eyes, "I'm with you. For now."

Ana nodded, "Thank you. And...I appreciate you helping me, back there. I would normally be able to take care of myself, but --"

Hanzo held up his hand, interrupting her, "I know. They took your weapons, and starved you."

Ana cocked her head to one side, looking him up and down. Her one good eye narrowed at him, and Hanzo knew exactly what she was thinking: "How did you know that, and where, exactly, did you come from?" She didn't say this out loud, however. Instead, she simply said, "Who are you?"

Hanzo gave her a nod, "Hanzo, at your service."

She gave him a look he couldn't quite read, then nodded slowly, "I see. Well. Thank you...Hanzo."

Together they began the walk toward where they hoped town would be. The sounds of the Junkers' desperate hunt stalked them as they moved, and Hanzo wondered, for about the dozenth time in three days, exactly why he hadn't just left...


	14. R-E-S-P-E-C-T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every time I hear the word "respect" the song pops into my head.
> 
> Just a little bit...just a little bit...
> 
> Sorry.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

McCree hated the snow.

It wasn't because it wasn't beautiful (it was), but because it was cold. Very, very cold. He didn't like the cold. It always got cold in New Mexico during the winter, but in Sweden it was different. It was the kind of frigid chill that caused physical pain in the extremities. The kind of cold that would make your fingers numb if you stood outside for too long, even while wearing gloves. He hated that.

But McCree also liked the night sky.

After the snow storm had come through and dropped what seemed like a metric ton of the white fluffy stuff all over the mountains, the clouds had cleared and the stars were out. McCree could see the fucking _galaxy_ it was so clear. He loved it. If it weren't so cold, he'd set up a little spot in one of the outside areas and just fall asleep under the stars.

As it stood, he was taking the risk of freezing his balls off right now just to stand there for a few minutes and soak in the view before bed. It was cold, but looking at the stars relaxed him; he couldn't imagine trying to sleep without getting a glance.

It was quiet, in addition to being cold and clear, so it was easy to identify the squeak when he heard it. Junkrat's peg leg wasn't exactly quiet. He wouldn't be sneaking up on anyone any time soon.

"What're you doin' up, kid?" McCree drawled without looking back at the Junker who had walked up behind him. He took a drag of his cigar. It wasn't enough to warm him, but damn it all if it didn't help him relax even more.

"I don't sleep much," Junkrat said.

McCree knew that, of course. He'd heard Junkrat lumbering around in the halls late at night, moving about looking for something to do. Truth be told, McCree doubted any member of Overwatch slept very well. He remembered talking to Reinhardt years ago about it; the older man had outright admitted to having nightmares every time he slept more than four hours at a time, and that they'd only worsened after Ana's death. McCree hadn't brought it up to Reinhardt since they'd returned to Overwatch, but he doubted that was something someone just randomly got over.

He might not have known it, but Junkrat actually fit right in, in that regard.

McCree chuckled, "Yeah. I get that."

"I did something," Junkrat said, hesitating a bit.

McCree turned to face him, exasperated, "What did you do?"

Junkrat shrugged, his hands behind his back, and didn't make eye contact with McCree. From where he was standing, on a ramp a few feet down from McCree, the taller man actually looked much shorter than he was. It didn't help that he was slouching anyway, and right now he seemed to be skulking like a scolded child.

Junkrat looked, in this moment, for all the world, like a little kid.

"Junkrat," McCree said in a stern tone; he hated using that tone. He sounded just like Gabe when he used that tone.... "What did you do?"

Junkrat bit his lip and removed his hands from behind his back. Resting against the prostetic arm, torn apart and sparking randomly, was the little robot Mei had lovingly named Snowball.

Well, shit.

"Junkrat, what did you _do_?" McCree said again, this time with a clear panic to his tone, his eyes never leaving the crumpled mess of metal and wires in Junkrat's arms.

"I broke it," Junkrat whined, "I didn't mean to! I was just lookin' at it, and it...I dunno...I poked around a bit, and it just...kinda...blew up...?"

"Boy, Mei is going to kill you."

"I know that," Junkrat said, true panic in his voice, "I know, and she scares me. Please don't tell 'er, mate."

"Why the hell would you show this to me if you didn't plan on telling her?" McCree asked, trying his hardest to keep his voice down. The overnight staff that worked the loading docks were milling about below them, doing their jobs. McCree didn't want to alarm them to anything, especially anything that had to do with the guest no one trusted.

Junkrat shrugged, "I dunno, mate. I just...I took it because I panicked, and you were the first person I ran into, so..." he thrust Snowball out toward McCree, "can you take it? Please?"

"Oh, hell no," McCree said, raising his hands in the air and taking a step backward, "I ain't touchin' that thing. I had nothin' to do with this."

"What am I supposed to do, McCree?" Junkrat asked.

It was the first time Junkrat had called any of the Overwatch agents by name, and it threw McCree off a bit. He blinked, shrugged, gaped. "I don't know, kid. Tell her?"

Junkrat snorted, "Right. Not gonna happen, mate. She don't like me. She finds out I been sneakin' around that damn lab at night, she's gonna roast me on a spit and eat me for dinner."

McCree raised his eyebrows, "Well then why are you sneakin' around in there, idiot? She's asked you not to do that."

"There's stuff in there," Junkrat said, like the answer to McCree's question should have been obvious, "I like _stuff_ , mate. It's shiny and new."

"And broken, now that you've touched it," McCree said. He sighed, rubbed his temple, "Can you just go one day without breakin' shit?"

Junkrat shrugged, "Apparently not."

"I'm not helpin' you here, kid. Either you tell Mei, or you figure out how to fix it, because she is bound to notice it's missin'."

Junkrat worked his jaw, grinding his teeth together with a sound that made McCree shudder. The Junker was standing outside, in the cold, in nothing but shorts and a sleeveless shirt (which had been a fight to get him to put on; he apparently didn't like shirts), and McCree wondered how he wasn't freezing to death right now. Stupid Junker kid...

"I saw what it does, you know," Junkrat said, looking McCree in the eye, "This thing of her's. I watched her use it in Sydney. It made a blizzard thing and froze people."

There was a hint of fear in Junkrat's voice and McCree nodded with a small sigh, releasing a puff of cloudy air as he did so, "Yeah. I don't know how it works, but it does."

"Is she actually gonna kill me, mate?"

McCree looked Junkrat over with a shrug, "No, prob'ly not. She's gonna be angry, though. Real angry."

Junkrat nodded, "No surprise there. Nothin' different..."

"Why come to me with this, kid?" McCree asked, "Why not just take it back to your bunk and hide it? Hope she don't find out it was you, or something? I don't know."

Junkrat shrugged, looking anywhere but at McCree. He shook his head, "She was nice to me this mornin'. In the library. After all the ladies came back from drinkin'. She's not usually nice."

McCree had heard Mei complaining about Junkrat crashing her party in the library earlier that day. She'd apparently gone there to try and relax to get her hangover to subside a bit, and he'd been there making noise and causing a ruckus. McCree had visited the library shortly after that to use one of the computers there, and it certainly hadn't looked like he'd caused as much damage as Mei had made it out. Sure there were some books that had been knocked over, but quite frankly that didn't matter to McCree, as long as they were in the right spot. He'd assumed Mei was overexaggerating about the encounter because of her hangover; Junkrat was not a quiet person and loud was not what one needed when they were coming down from a night out. She had insisted to Angela that she'd been nice, when directly pressed about it. McCree didn't believe her. She usually held nothing but disdain toward both of the Junkers.

But apparently she _had_ been nice.

So much so that Junkrat apparently didn't want to ruin whatever friendship might be budding between them.

"Look, kid," McCree said, putting the cigar out on the concrete railing behind him, "Mei values honesty. She might not _like_ that you broke her robot, but she'll _respect_ you for tellin' the truth. I honest to God believe that."

Junkrat huffed, "I don't care if she respects me, mate."

"You should," McCree crossed his arms and leaned back against the railing with a sigh, "Respect is a big deal, 'round here. You do somethin' that makes us respect you, you're one step closer to us trustin' ya."

Junkrat swallowed hard, biting his lip, "Would you respect me if I told her?"

McCree nodded, "Sure."

"What about the dwarf? Or your big German friend?"

McCree gave a chuckle, "Torbjorn and Reinhardt? Yeah." He shrugged, "Torby might respect you _more_ if you stopped callin' him a dwarf, though. He don't like that much."

Junkrat nodded, "I'll keep that in mind..."

"Why those names?" McCree asked, "Why me, Torby, and Rein specifically?"

Junkrat shrugged and waved his good hand in McCree's general direction, refusing to make eye contact, "I like ya, mate. You're good people. One of the only ones I can stand, other than Roadie."

McCree raised his eyebrows, "You like me?"

"Yeah."

"Why?" McCree asked with a chuckle. He was flattered, but also a bit confused. He hadn't gone out of his way to welcome Junkrat in any way, and had actually come very close to beating the shit out of him on their first day in the Watchpoint, when Junkrat was still locked in a cell and Roadhog was in the infirmary. Granted, he hadn't gone out of his way to be mean to Junkrat, either; he'd tried his best to be as welcoming as possible since their first encounter.

He knew what it was like to be a criminal inside Overwatch.

Truth be told, McCree saw a lot of himself in Junkrat. Or rather, a lot of what he used to be when he got dragged into Watchpoint: Gibraltar all those years ago. He'd been headstrong, loud, obnoxious, and had often gone out of his way to annoy the agents in any way he could. He didn't care if they liked him; he'd been trying to get out of working for them, back then. Junkrat was all of those things, but for different reasons. He'd asked to be here, for his own protection. It didn't mean he had to like it, and he was acting out. That made sense. He was in a completely new and unknown environment, surrounded by people who all but ignored him. And he had no choice in the matter.

He had to stay if he wanted to live.

Damn it all, McCree _liked_ the kid.

Junkrat gave a small shrug, "I dunno, mate. You got me a spot in the workshop. I....appreciate that."

The last part was said through clenched teeth, as though Junkrat didn't want to be admitting that out loud, and McCree chuckled, "Well, it's better than lettin' you keep destroyin' the place. I know Torby wasn't too happy with it, but he's gettin' there."

"He's fine," Junkrat said, again through gritted teeth, "He...sometimes helps me with stuff."

Ah, so that's why Torbjorn's name had been included in the list of people Junkrat apparently wanted respect from. Torbjorn was helping Junkrat learn to build things. That was...surprisingly sweet of the diminutive engineer. McCree hadn't expected that.

"And Rein?" McCree asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Junkrat shrugged, "He's nice. I like him."

That came as no big surprise. There was a small amount of people in the world who didn't like Reinhardt Wilhelm. He was always a nice guy, warm and welcoming in the best way. Of course he would be one of the people to try to bond with Junkrat; he'd already formed something of a respectable bond with Roadhog.

McCree shivered a bit. Had the temperature _dropped_? How freaking cold was it going to get?

"Look, kid, you're gonna make mistakes," he said, drawing his shoulders up to keep from shivering, "Fact of the matter is, you gotta own up to 'em when they happen."

Junkrat shook his head, "It's so much easier to hide it though. Saves a good beatin' every now and then."

"Yeah, or you get an even bigger one when the offended party finds out," McCree said with a small chuckle, "I know Mei isn't going to be happy, but you need to tell her. That robot is practically attached to her hip. She's _going_ to notice it's gone."

There was a soft thump and a small shuffle from somewhere off to McCree's right behind Junkrat and he glanced in that direction. Roadhog had come outside and was moving toward them. He wasn't wearing a shirt at all, and McCree shivered out of pity. The big man had to be cold.

"What's goin' on?" Roadhog rumbled.

Junkrat looked up at Roadhog with a shrug, "I broke somethin' again, mate."

McCree almost _heard_ Roadhog roll his eyes under the mask, "Idiot. What was it this time?"

"The scientist girl's robot thingy."

"You gonna fix it?"

Junkrat looked up at McCree like a little lost puppy dog and McCree said, "He's gonna tell her." Junkrat bit his lip and looked away.

Roadhog shrugged, "Or you could fix it."

"You think I know how to fix this, mate?" Junkrat asked, holding the robot out toward Roadhog so the bigger man could get a better look, "See how small this is? It's...intricate n'shit, I can't fix this."

"Since when?" Roadhog grumbled. He took a step toward Junkrat and let out a huff of air, "You've fixed worse."

"Yeah, but nothin' this small, Roadie..."

"You know what it does."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

Roadhog reached out and put a massive hand on Junkrat's shoulder, giving him a slight shake that probably only looked more rough than it actually was, "You know what it does. Figure out how it does it and fix it." He looked over at McCree, gave a nod, and turned back to face Junkrat, "Then tell her. And apologize for bein' an idiot."

Junkrat scoffed, "You want me to fix it _and_ tell her?"

Roadhog gave Junkrat a slight shove, sending the smaller man reeling a bit against the wall behind him, "Yes. Because you're a moron. Live up to it, moron. And stop touching shit you shouldn't touch."

McCree didn't know whether he was witnessing an awkward tender moment between the two, or if he was about to watch a beating go down. Nevertheless, he took a step forward and tentatively placed a hand on Roadhog's arm to get him to back off a bit. "He's right. It would help to present her with an apology _and_ less work to do by repairin' Snowball yourself."

Junkrat scrunched up his face in confusion, "Snowball?"

"'S'what Mei calls the robot," McCree said with a grin.

"She calls it Snowball?" Junkrat said, sounding affronted. It was apparently the dumbest thing he'd ever heard, based upon his current facial expression.

Roadhog chuckled and said the last thing McCree would have ever expected to come out of the big man's mouth: "Cute name."

McCree blinked at Roadhog a few times, an action which neither of the Junkers seemed to notice, and shook his head, "Look, I don't care what you do, kid, as long as it involves tellin' Mei at some point." He stepped around the Junkers and headed back down the short ramp toward the doorway below. He wanted to get back inside where it was warm, hopefully get some sleep if he could manage, "Sooner than later, I'd prefer. I don't want the knowledge of this sin hangin' over my head for too long."

Junkrat gave him an absent little wave, looking at Snowball resting in the crook of his arm with contemplation, "Night."

"G'night, boys," McCree said, tipping his hat by way of farewell. He didn't get a word out of Roadhog, but at least he got a wave. So that was something.

The hallway was nice and warm, immediately putting McCree into a relaxed state. Luckily his quarters weren't too far from here. He couldn't wait to curl up in bed and get some sleep. Absently, he found himself hoping Junkrat would do the right thing by telling Mei. She wouldn't be happy, but at least she would know. He also found himself hoping Junkrat wouldn't bring his name into this.

Jesse McCree was several things, and afraid of angry women was one of them...  
__________________________________________________________________________________

Winston had no information from Fareeha aside from a set of coordinates, the fact that they'd be taking on some Junkers, and an insistence that they do this as quickly as possible. He wished she'd trust him with more information than that, but he understood that his agents held a certain level of secrecy in their lives he wasn't always privy to. He had to remind himself that it wasn't always about trust, or lack thereof; sometimes people just needed secrets.

She'd promised to explain things once they carried out this rescue. That was enough for him.

He allowed her to take the helm on this one, since she seemed so intent on carrying this out her way. She assembled the team, she did the planning, she took the lead. She was very good at it. It didn't surprise Winston too much; Fareeha had a lot of her mother in her and Ana had always been good at taking the lead when the time came. She insisted that he come along for the muscle, and also recruited an incredibly eager Hana to join up with her mech. It would be the first real mission Hana Song was going on, and she was excited.

The rest of Fareeha's team consisted of herself, Angela, Genji, Tracer and an incredibly enthusiastic Lucio.

When pressed for information as to why she didn't want to bring Reinhardt, Fareeha didn't answer. She only stated that they could do this with the team she'd assembled, that she trusted them to get the job done, and then reiterated that she'd explain everything later once they'd carried out the mission. Winston didn't press for more information after that. Fareeha was clearly intent on doing this her way, and he didn't want to step on her toes.

She seemed to know what she was doing, so he left it alone.

As everyone assembled in the hangar bay the next morning and piled into Tracer's dropship, however, Winston couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. It was the same feeling he'd had months ago, when they'd made this same flight to rescue Junkrat. Something about this was weird, and he couldn't quite place why. Fareeha admitted to having the same feeling, but assured him that they could get in and out real quick if they did this right. There might be a fight, of course. There was always a fight during a rescue. No one wanted to give up the person they were actively holding hostage, otherwise it would't be a rescue. Fareeha's words.

She had her mother's sarcastic wit as well.

God, Winston missed Ana.  
__________________________________________________________________________________

Someone had screwed up.

For months, it seemed, someone had been communicating with a person inside Overwatch. The emails were sparse (evidently they preferred communicating via paper letter when they could), and often encrypted. Sombra didn't go through every single email in the world. That would be insane and would drive her even crazier than she probably already was. People sent encrypted emails all the time in this day and age. It wouldn't have been worth her time to go through email after email looking for information on Overwatch.

But this time, the email had been sent raw. There were all kinds of firewalls set into place by Overwatch's AI, Athena, that kept Sombra from getting too much information on where they were located, but the email itself had a set of coordinates explaining where Overwatch would soon be if they took this letter seriously.

The sender was requesting a rescue, and had given her contact a location.

Perfect.

Finally, Sombra had what she was looking for. They had a way to get their hands on Overwatch.


	15. Reunions, Part 1

Fareeha was in Sweden. Ana knew this. She'd been keeping in contact with her daughter for about two months now. She'd sent the first letter, explaining things, shortly before Overwatch's little jaunt to Sydney. Fareeha had been understandably apprehensive about the contact, sending a stern reply that told Ana exactly what she thought of being screwed with. It took some convincing, over the course of a couple of weeks, to get Fareeha to believe that it was actually her mother talking to her and not some weirdo playing a prank in poor taste.

She knew she'd managed to sway her daughter when her own sixtieth birthday came around and Fareeha sent an email that said, simply: "Happy birthday, Mom."

They kept the communications short and sweet from there, often sending letters back and forth that took several days to arrive. When they did communicate by email, it was through a series of proxy servers and encryptions to keep anyone from being able to hack them. The emails were generally only two or three sentences long and rarely gave away any personal information, in case some outside source decided to randomly take a look. It was why Ana and Jack had been moving north across Australia for the last few weeks, however slowly: Ana had a contact on Australia's north shore that could get them to Sweden.

Then they'd been attacked, and everything had changed.

She didn't have time to take precautions. Jack's life was hanging in the balance, and he needed help. So what if there were a few bounties on her head? No one who wanted her dead knew she was even in Australia, and it would take them a long time for them to get there. Few small time bounty hunters had their own dropships to come down right on top of those coordinates the way Overwatch did.

For now, Ana and Hanzo had taken refuge inside the town's tiny inn. They'd been there for hours, and they had barely spoken to each other. Hanzo was a man of few words, it seemed, and he didn't like to share. Granted, Ana wasn't too keen on giving a virtual stranger her entire life story either, so she didn't mind the silence too much.

She couldn't communicate with Fareeha while the dropship was in the air, but she had an approximate arrival time to rely on. They'd be coming in just before dawn, and would land at the coordinates provided by Ana a mile or so south-west of town, right between town and where the Junkers were -- Ana hoped -- still camped out. It was entirely possible the Junkers had decided to pack up and move; Ana was placing a lot of hope on the fact that Fuse would be too stubborn to do so.

Hanzo woke Ana (she hadn't even realized she'd been asleep that long) in the middle of the night and the two began their hike toward the coordinates. Approximate coordinates. Ana had given Fareeha that information based upon where she knew the town to be, but she could be off by as much as a mile. Without a map or a GPS, everything she sent out was complete guesswork.

The area was open to allow the dropship room to land, but it felt far too open to Ana. She was used to keeping away from open areas, staying out of view. She felt like the mom in that told movie, Bambi: watching and waiting anxiously for something to go wrong.

In an ironic twist that sent Ana's stomach into a back flip, much like the mother deer in that movie, her own child was at stake here, too.

If she'd made a mistake...if something went wrong...

She hoped she was doing the right thing.

Hanzo had just dozed off against a nearby tree when Ana saw movement in the sky above them. The object flying there was dimly lit to allow the pilot to see the landing area, but not enough to draw attention to them from miles around. Ana could see the Overwatch logo, even in the dark, and saw Tracer's name, Lena Oxton, scrawled across the side. Despite herself, a smile came to her lips.

It felt like coming home again.

Hanzo moved to stand beside her, glaring at the ship. Ana gave his shoulder a slight squeeze to let him know this was what they'd been waiting for for the last thirty five minutes and that they weren't being attacked. He gave her a nod. She took a deep, shaky breath.

Who was in there?

Who would she be seeing for the first time in six years? Which person who believed her dead would come out to the rather random surprise that she was, in fact, alive? Which hearts would she break right away with this secret, and which would have to wait until later when they got back to Sweden?

The door to the dropship opened and Fareeha, dressed head to toe in blue battle armor, stepped out. She stopped when her feet hit the ground and just...stood there.

For a few moments, the world seemed to stand still as mother and daughter just stared. Tears formed in Ana's eye and she gave her daughter a small, sad smile. She couldn't see the whole of Fareeha's face beneath the helmet, only the strong, stoic line of her mouth, the dramatic outline of her chin and jaw.

Then Fareeha let out a little sob, and ran to hug her mother.

Ana held her daughter tight. She didn't want to let go. Even as years of grief overcame her little girl and she began to drag her to her knees on the ground as she weapt, Ana still held her. She buried her face in the crook of her daughter's neck and cried with her. It wasn't comfortable, since Fareeha was covered in that armor, but it was something.

She was holding her daughter again, and that was worth something.

"Captain Amari...?" came a breathless call from behind Fareeha. Ana took a peek over her daughter's shoulder to see Winston staring at her, mouth agape and glasses askew. She felt a new surge of happy tears well up inside her. Ah, Winston. Always so formal with the titles.

"It's just Ana now, Winston," she said from where she sat on the ground, "No need for the formalities anymore."

"You're...alive..." Winston said slowly, as though testing each word.

Ana nodded, "I am. Yes."

Three more figures came down the ramp behind Winston and each one reacted as he had, one by one. First came Angela, tall and beautiful as always in her regal way. Then came Tracer, quick, happy, and bouncy. Then Genji behind them. Each one called her name with breathless surprise, each unsure of how to take this news. There were two others with them as well, faces Ana didn't recognize.

And all the while, Ana held a sobbing Fareeha on the ground, not willing to let go.

Behind her, she felt, rather than saw, Hanzo's tension go up as Genji exited the ship. Her travel companion had stayed further back and remained quiet throughout the exchange, and if he was curious as to what was going on, he hadn't said so. But now, he moved to stand beside Ana and Fareeha, his face a grim scowl.

"Genji," he said in that raspy, deep tone, "Brother."

Ana's good eye flicked toward Genji, who just stood still and stared at Hanzo. She couldn't see his face for the mask, and she wondered what he was thinking. He'd been young when Overwatch had recruited him and saved his life. Ana remembered him being a good fighter, swift and strong in combat. She remembered listening to the story of how his brother had tried to kill him because of some family law, and there was always a deep sense of bitterness there.

Genji was not a happy man, before Ana had died.

But he seemed different now. His entire air was molded into something new, peaceful. He no longer seemed so angry and bitter. And if Ana had any doubts about what she felt from him, they were immediately put to rest when Genji stepped forward and gave Hanzo a hug.

Well. That, she had not expected.

"Brother," Genji said, stepping away and clapping Hanzo on the shoulders with both hands, "I was wondering when you would come."

Hanzo stood there, staring at Genji with that same grim scowl. He hadn't returned the hug, and now looked like he was going to try to kill Genji again. Ana swallowed, watching them both. Even Fareeha had turned to look at the exchange.

Finally, Hanzo sighed and looked away, shaking his head, "I have been looking," he said, quietly, "You are not easy to find."

"You're with Ana," Genji said, motioning toward the older woman now sitting at his feet, "Why?"

"He helped me," Ana said, giving Hanzo an approving nod.

"What the hell is going on?" Winston asked. Ana had never heard him curse before. She wasn't sure she liked it.

Fareeha sniffled and wiped at her face under the helmet, then stood, helping Ana to her feet behind her, "My mom contacted me months ago," she said, turning to face Winston with a small sigh, "I wasn't sure it was her at first, so I didn't tell anyone. Then it just became a secret I wasn't even sure how to tell at all. I'm sorry, Winston. I didn't mean to spring this on...anyone, but...I didn't know how to just bring it up in casual conversation."

Winston gave a slow nod of realization, his mouth hanging open slightly, "This is why you didn't want Reinhardt to come..." he said, quietly.

Fareeha nodded, "Yes. I wasn't sure how he'd handle it..."

Ana felt a pang of guilt rise up in her chest. She'd asked Fareeha not to tell Reinhardt. She'd wanted to find a way to tell him herself. She couldn't leave that up to her daughter, she just couldn't.

It would be too hard, on all of them.

"Why didn't you tell _me_?" Angela asked, looking at Fareeha as though hurt, "I thought...something like this...you would have told me..."

Fareeha looked away from Angela and gave a shrug, "I'm sorry."

"Are you who we're here to rescue?" Tracer asked, looking confused. The normally happy girl's face was screwed up in an expression that said she was trying very hard not to cry right now, and she was fidgiting.

Ana shook her head, giving Tracer a small smile, "In part, yes." She chuckled a bit and held her arms out, offering Tracer a small nod.

Tracer wasted no time rushing forward to meet Ana in a tight hug.

"Okay, I'm really confused," came a small voice from behind Winston. A young girl, no older than nineteen, popped out from behind the scientist to give everyone a big shrug, "What is going on?"

Fareeha took a breath to steady herself and stood up a bit straighter, "Hana, this is...my mother. Ana Amari."

Ana gave the girl a smile and a nod, "Hello."

"Mom, this is Hana Song, and Lucio." Fareeha said, indicating both the girl and a young man standing just a bit further back, "They're recruits. I thought they could help us on this mission."

"You brought recruits for this?" Ana asked.

"We needed the extra firepower, since Reinhardt isn't here," Fareeha said with a nod.

Ana raised her brows at her daughter, "And what, may I ask, is large enough to make up for Reinhardt not being here?"

Hana smirked, "I'll show you." Without another word, she disappeared around the backside of the dropship, where the cargo bay was. There was the sound of mechanical whirring, followed swiftly by several large thumps and Hana came back around to the front of the ship nestled safely inside the cockpit of a large mech.

Ana went from judgmental to actually rather surprised in one fell swoop, "That...should help."

"I'm still confused," Winston said, raising a finger slightly toward the sky to make himself noticed, then pointing it at Hanzo, "What is _he_ doing here?"

Hanzo gave everyone a stoic glare, shifted uneasily back and forth on his feet. Genji stepped forward to speak, "He was looking for me."

"And just happened to find Captain Amari, a former member of Overwatch? Someone who could lead him right to you?" Winston asked, "I don't buy it."

Genji looked back at his brother, as though asking for an explanation, but Hanzo didn't give one. Instead, Ana spoke this time, stepping forward so everyone could see her, "He helped me. I don't care why he's here, or how he happened upon me. He saved my life."

"How?" Angela asked.

Ana shrugged, "He murdered a man who was chasing me down when I did not have a weapon to defend myself," she said in a matter of fact tone, as though that sort of thing happened to her every day.

Truthfully, it kinda did...

"Mom," Fareeha said, her voice surprisingly stern, "What's going on? You said you needed a rescue, but" she held her hands out to indicate the empty field around them, "there's no one here to rescue you from."

Ana nodded, took a deep breath, "Yes. I...need your help rescuing someone else. Hanzo and I could not do it on our own."

Fareeha's mouth tightened into a thin line, "Who?"

As if these people weren't shaken up enough by her own grand return from the dead, Ana now had to spring the news that someone else they had all cared for and mourned over was actually just as alive and well as she was. She bit her lip, took another steadying breath...

"Jack Morrison."

Winston looked like he was about to go into cardiac arrest, Tracer nearly fell over, and Angela's jaw may as well have been touching the ground. Only Genji didn't seem overly fazed by this news. Fareeha, who had lost all composure and erupted into tears at the sight of her mother, now stood rigid, her arms crossed over her chest, and just stared at Ana through her helmet's visor. Ana wished she could see Fareeha's expression under that helmet, and took a moment to briefly wonder why she suddenly felt like the child in this relationship under her daughter's gaze.

Fareeha had become more like her than she had ever feared.

"Commander Morrison is alive...?" Winston finally asked, breaking the silence that had overtaken them.

Ana nodded, "Yes."

"What happened to him?" Tracer asked, "Why's he need rescuing?"

"We were attacked a few days ago," Ana said, "as we slept. Our attackers used my weapon to overpower him, then captured us. I managed to get away, and he, as far as I know, has not."

"Who are these people that _Commander Morrison_ can't get away?" Tracer asked, looking slightly concerned. 

"Junkers," Hanzo said, surprising them all.

" _The_ Junkers. From Sydney." Ana said with a nod.

"Wait, what?" Winston asked, "Why?"

Ana shook her head, "I don't know. I remember seeing their leader -- Fuse, I believe it is -- in Sydney. She and a companion of her's had been attacked by Talon agents, but Jack and I took them out. We weren't aware she was a criminal who would come back to capture us at the time."

"You were in Sydney?" Lucio asked.

Ana nodded, "Yes. Jack and I had been tracking Reaper and Talon. Their last stop was there." She looked at Fareeha, giving a small smile, "We never expected to see you there fighting them."

Fareeha nodded, "Winston had a lead on a rescue. We were carrying it out."

She was being so formal, so professional. Ana could understand that; this was a mission, as it stood at this moment. They were here to rescue her and Jack. There wasn't time for emotion, beyond what she had shown as soon as she'd stepped off that dropship. Fareeha was a professional. She was trying to distance herself from that outburst and finish the mission.

Didn't make it any less painful, however.

Ana wanted to whisk Fareeha out of here, to get her away from Overwatch as quickly as possible. Her daughter could do it, she knew. It wasn't a matter of Fareeha having the skill. But as much as Ana loved the people she'd worked with all those years ago, Overwatch as a whole had undoubtedly broken her. She'd put the weight of the world on her shoulders, and she'd snapped. Ultimately, she couldn't handle it.

She hoped Fareeha could fare better.

"What's the plan, here?" Tracer asked, looking between Winston, Fareeha, and Ana, as though looking for someone to take the lead.

Ana shrugged, "I have no weapons. I had to leave them behind when I escaped the Junkers."

Winston nodded and looked to Fareeha, "What's the plan, Pharah?"

Pharah? That must have been her call sign. Ana liked it. It fit. A good, strong name to go by. She smirked at her daughter, raising a brow, "Yes, _Pharah_. What is the plan?"

Pharah stared at Ana, trying to fight back the smile that was forming on her lips, then turned to Hanzo, "You have a weapon?" Hanzo nodded, motioning to the bow slung across his back. Pharah paused for a brief moment, and Ana knew that she was taking in the fact that the man used a _bow_ , of all things. It was a bizarre choice, to be sure. But if his aim was always as good as it had been when he'd killed Sway, then Ana wasn't going to question it.

Next came the tougher question, "Are you willing to follow my orders?"

Hanzo huffed, "If they are good, perhaps."

Pharah nodded, "They will be. How much range does that thing have?"

Hanzo removed the bow and stretched the string taught, examining the weapon with pride, "It is as good as any rifle."

Ah, so he fancied himself a sniper. Interesting.

Pharah nodded, "All right. I need you to stay back, on high ground. Cover our healers and stay within Mercy's line of sight," She jabbed her thumb backward toward where Angela was standing behind her, "If she needs a quick exit, you're the one she's going to."

Hanzo looked at Mercy, his eyes narrowing, and nodded.

"Lucio, if things go bad, just go," Pharah said, turning to face the young man who had come with them, "Get out as quickly as you can and find a way up to our sniper," she jabbed her thumb toward Hanzo this time. Lucio nodded, suddenly looking a little nervous.

"D.Va," Pharah said, turning to the teenager in the mech, "You're our front line."

The girl nodded, "I know. I got this, Pharah, trust me."

Pharah nodded, "Tracer, I need you to get in as quickly as possible and find Commander Morrison." She turned to Ana, "Do you know where he would be?"

Ana shook her head, "No. They kept us separate."

"Okay. Don't move in until we have visual." Pharah said, turning to Tracer now for confirmation. Tracer nodded. "We'll try to go for the weapons as well, but that's not our priority," Pharah said, "If we don't get them, it's not a big deal."

"Where is this place?" Winston asked, looking now to Ana.

About a quarter mile down the hill from where they were standing, Ana could see the distant glow of the campfire that had once belonged to herself and Jack, burning bright in the hot Australian night. They were closer to the camp than she'd originally thought, and she had a momentary bout of panic as she wondered if they'd seen the dropship come down. She pointed, "They're down there. That's their fire."

Pharah bit her lip, a sign of nervousness she used to show when she was a child; she was worried. Ana reached forward gently and grasped her daughter's hand in her own, giving it a light squeeze. It was doubtful she could feel it through the armor, but the gesture was enough to get her point across.

_You can do this, my daughter. Be strong._

Pharah took a deep breath and offered Ana a nod, then looked at the people behind her. They were all willing to fight at her side and stand at her back. That was all she needed above anything else.  
__________________________________________________________________________________

The coordinates were wrong.

Oh, they weren't very far off; from where the Talon dropship had landed, they could see the Overwatch dropship touch down a little farther to the south. Just a low glow above the hills that surrounded them. All that meant was that they'd have to work harder to hike up there and sabotage the Overwatch ship, as had been the original plan.

Reaper wasn't too upset. Plans changed, and he would much rather kill the members one by one by hand himself.

Below Talon, a campfire burned bright. According to Sombra, that was probably Overwatch's quarry. Someone needed rescuing, if the email was to be believed, and he or she was most likely with the disgusting Junker gang there. If Reaper were able to in this moment, he would be smiling.

He had an idea of who had sent that email. Ana Amari was the type who couldn't stay hidden for long. She just had to get involved, just had to try to save everyone. There was a bigger picture here, but she couldn't see it past her blind devotion to people who had abandonded her to die. She'd written the damn email. She'd been the idiot who had forgotten to encrypt it. Reaper just knew it. As for the person who needed rescuing? Well...

Jack always did get himself into precarious situations.

It was perfect, really. This entire setup. It was like they wanted to get caught. Somewhere down there in that mess of Junker crap was Jack Morrison, and Ana would be coming from somewhere to rescue him accompanied by some of Overwatch's finest. How grand.

This was going to be fun.

"You ready?"

The voice came from just behind him, to his right. He didn't need to look there to know it was Sombra speaking to him. The girl had a distinctive, irritating voice he could recognize instantly. He gave a small chuckle, "Oh, yes. I'm ready."

"Good. You and the troops handle these assholes, I'll head up there and sabotage Overwatch's ship."

"Of course you're not coming with us."

Sombra chuckled, "Last time I tried to fight someone, our target got away, remember?"

She was referring to Katya Volskaya, during their infiltration mission to Russia several months ago. She'd been sent in alone to find Volskaya, when Reaper and Widowmaker had been otherwise unable to, and she'd lost the target. Though Reaper wasn't quite sure that was the case. Sombra had been a bit too happy at the end of that mission, despite the fact that they'd failed. She'd gotten something out of it, he was sure, but he had yet to find out what.

All he knew was, he only trusted Sombra so much. He didn't really know who's side she was on, and it unnerved him. Nevertheless, he felt the need to play dumb around her; if she thought she was fooling him, maybe she'd let her guard down and slip up. He waved a hand toward her with a small shrug, "Fine. Just don't get caught. We're not coming for you if you do."

"Eh, I figured as much," Sombra said.

She slipped away into the shadows and Widowmaker took her spot, rifle at the ready, "We should just kill them. None of this subterfuge."

Reaper huffed and looked over his shoulder at the sniper, "I thought you liked subterfuge."

"Not when it's gone on this long," Widowmaker said with a scowl, "Let's just get this over with."

She whipped around and thrust her arm above her, activating the grappling device that rested around her wrist. The wire attached itself to a nearby rock and hoisted her up into the air and out of sight on a ledge above them, where she disappeared to look for a more advantageous spot. Reaper watched her move with a sort of hunger to his gaze. She was a beautiful woman, that Widowmaker. Deadly, too. He was glad she was on his side.

He tested his comm device, calling out once to Sombra and once to Widowmaker, both of whom answered. He nodded. Everything was in place. Now it was time to spring the trap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been excited to write this chapter from the very moment I started this fic. Reunions are one of my favorite things to write. I'm not sure why. I just love the genuine heartfelt emotion behind them. Seeing someone you haven't seen in years for the first time is just an amazing feeling.
> 
> I'm not, however, looking forward to writing Ana's reunion with Reinhardt. :( That one's going to make me sad, I think.


	16. A Rescue Downunder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol.
> 
> Punny chapter titles.
> 
> Enjoy!

There were only two dozen or so Junkers milling around the camp Ana had pointed to. From the rocky outcropping Hanzo had shown them, it was impossible to see where Jack was being kept. Pharah couldn't fly in for a better look without the risk of being seen and subsequently shot down, and they couldn't launch a blind attack for the risk of killing Jack in the ensuing firefight. Walking in expecting to be able to talk them down was out of the question; Ana had made it clear that if Fuse felt she was going to lose, she'd just kill Jack right away and they would have come all this way for nothing.

Well, not for nothing. They would have Ana, at least.

What they did have was one of the fastest people in the world on their side, and Tracer took that title to stride. She ran in, did a quick recon, and got back out with minimal interference. She hadn't completely evaded detection: the Junkers believed some animal was out there stalking them and had gathered their weapons. There would be a fight, but the agents of Overwatch had gone into this expecting one.

What mattered was that Tracer had found Jack.

He was being kept at the center of the camp, close to the fire, where everyone could watch over him. He was also apparently "hogtied to hell and back," according to Tracer's description, but he was still alive. That's what was important.

There was no time to discuss it with anyone before they set out to ambush the Junkers, but it was weird, seeing Commander Morrison alive. The last time Tracer had seen him had been in Switzerland, before the Overwatch headquarters had blown up, and he hadn't been happy. Jack Morrison was never an overly open or warm guy, but he was always charming and calm. Seeing him so angry before the explosion was a shock to anyone who'd witnessed it. When everyone had thought he'd died, Overwatch had died with him.

It would be nice to be able to hug her old Commander again, but everything about this situation made Tracer feel abandoned. Jack Morrison hadn't died, he'd just...left. He hadn't even said goodbye, explained himself, nothing. It was unfair. Without him, Overwatch had crumbled completely, and she'd had to say goodbye to people she'd considered family...

Because he never came back.

Because he'd abandoned them.

Tracer wanted to cry.

But there was a mission to perform. There was a person to rescue. It didn't matter who they were trying to save right now. What mattered was that they actually did save him. She didn't have time for personal feelings at this moment. She'd broken down when she'd seen Ana again. She couldn't do that with Commander Morrison.

Not until he was safe.

They moved into position and prepared to fight; using the tech in Lucio's gun, they would essentially just dive the camp and cause as much chaos as possible. Pharah and Mercy would cover them from above, Hanzo would cover Mercy and Lucio from the back, and Tracer's job was to go in and get Jack. It wasn't a foolproof plan, but it was something.

Tracer waited in the shadows until Pharah gave the signal; Winston and D.Va jumped in, shooting and just causing general chaos, and the Junkers responded in kind. It was to the point that Winston had to retreat back to a safer place lest he be outright killed immediately.

"Tracer, move in," came Pharah's voice from the comm device in her ear. Tracer gave a short, "Aye-aye," and dashed to where she knew Commander Morrison was waiting. He was still there, tied up, frantically trying to see what was happening.

"Hiya, Commander!" Tracer said as she popped up to his side. His eyes widened with very clear surprise.

" _Tracer_?"

His face was scarred pretty badly and for one moment it took Tracer off guard. Between the scars and the fact that he'd aged quite a bit over the years, she wasn't sure if she would have been able to recognize him were she not told outright who she was looking for. She gave him a small smile and knelt down behind him, pulling at the knots that held his arms and legs firm, "Don't worry about a thing. We've got this."

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked, "What's going on?"

"It's a rescue, love," Tracer said. Christ on a bike, these knots were tight.... "You're in good hands."

"I need my weapon," he said, looking up at her over his shoulder.

She raised her eyebrows at him, "You _need_ to not be tied up, Commander. I'm working on it."

His eyes widened, "Look out!"

The strong vice grip of a very large, angry Australian dragged her up off her knees and into the air. The abnormally large woman's arms were wrapped around her shoulders and waste, and Tracer became acutely aware of the fact that she couldn't breathe. She kicked out, tried to blink away, but only got as far as the ground at the Junker woman's feet. The woman aimed a kick at Tracer's face, she dodged and rolled to the side, then blinked around to the woman's back.

The woman gave a confused howl and went for Jack instead, but Tracer shot at her to get her attention back.

"Oi, ya big brute, over here!" she called just before tossing a pulse bomb at the woman, "Here you go!"

The woman caught the bomb with a deftness Tracer hadn't thought possible from someone of her sheer size, and actually tossed it back. Tracer dived to her right to avoid having it stick to her and explode; the last thing she needed was to die to her own damn weapon. The Junker lunged forward and threw a punch, landing it across Tracer's jaw.

Tracer saw stars dance in her vision, and went down hard.

"Tracer!" she heard Jack call. Her vision danced before her eyes and his voice sounded incredibly far away.

Yeah. That was a bad hit.

Another one landed, this time to the other side of her face. Then there was a swift kick to her stomach, which knocked the air from her lungs and set the stars in her vision twirling. She could see the woman standing above her, could hear Jack's frantic cries and the woman's laughter...

Then the woman let out a scream and was torn away from Tracer to land somewhere in the trees behind her. Tracer blinked a few times, trying to get her vision to clear. She wasn't sure if her jaw was broken or if she was just feeling out of sorts from the hit, but it was clear something wasn't right. Winston materialized before her, blurry, but there; he'd apparently tossed her attacker away. He was calling for Mercy, and the next thing Tracer knew, a warm yellow glow was flowing over her. That felt nice. It was taking the pain away...

"Go," Mercy yelled at Winston, "Help the others, I've got her."

Winston gave a short nod and pounced away without a word, the jump pack on his back giving him the extra height he needed to clear both Jack and the campfire without a problem. Tracer let out a groan and sat up, rubbing at her jaw.

"Oh, ow."

"Tracer, it's all right," Mercy said, lying a hand on Tracer's shoulder, "Just lie still."

"Commander...Morrison..." Tracer slurred.

Mercy nodded and pulled a surprisingly long knife from her belt, "Genji gave this to me when he saw you couldn't get the ropes. We can use it to cut him loose."

Tracer's brows disappeared into her hairline, "That'll work."

The pain wasn't completely gone, but at least she could function now. She grabbed the knife from Mercy's hands and got to her feet. Mercy looked up to the skies, locked on to Pharah above them, and flew off, leaving Tracer alone with Jack. Tracer went to work on the ropes with the knife.

With the attack of his best friend, Winston was now angry. He'd watched Tracer go down, watched the large woman wail on his smaller friend with glee in her eyes, and he'd snapped. He hated that part of himself, the part that made him lose control, but in that moment, he didn't care. He pounced the woman and tossed her headlong into a tree. The resounding crack could have either been the Junker's spine or the tree's trunk, he wasn't sure. All he knew was, she wouldn't be getting up anytime soon.

And he was perfectly okay with that.

Once Mercy was healing Tracer, Winston put the rest of that anger to good use, battering whatever helpless Junker he could find into the ground. It took a few well placed, painful shots to his left shoulder before he managed to get a hold of himself and back off a bit. The Junker who had shot him took a flying leap at him, wielding a long knife that would have really hurt...

If he hadn't hit the ground in an instant with an arrow sticking out of his neck. Hanzo was at least pulling off his end of this deal, it seemed. Winston retreated back to D.Va, who's mech was being overrun by a group of about ten Junkers.

"RYUJIN NO KEN WO KURAE!"

Genji dropped from above, an eerie green glow consuming his body as he hacked away at the Junkers with his sword. He twirled and moved with the grace of a ninja, his speed enhanced by Lucio, who came skating up with his gun in hand and letting out a whoop of encouragement. The Junkers turned tail and ran, shooting at Genji as they did so. Genji quickly deflected the bullets with his sword, sending them right back into the people who had shot them.

"That was cool!"

Genji had expected the outburst to come from D.Va or Lucio, but was surprised to see that it was Winston who had complimented his handiwork. The gorilla was giving him an approving look, a large dorky smile across his face. Genji chuckled and gave Winston a small nod, sheathing his sword with a little flourish.

It wasn't until Pharah landed beside them that it became clear the battle was being won. What Junkers hadn't been killed had either run off or had been injured. Fuse was among those still alive, and was working hard to heal those of her men she could...

...with Overwatch's biotic field tech.

Winston's eyes narrowed. He marched toward the Junker and what little remained of her gang, "Where did you get that?"

Fuse glared up at him, then pointed to Jack, who was now free of his bonds and being supported by both Tracer and Mercy, "He had 'em. I just took 'em."

Winston turned to look at Jack, confused, "Those were..."

"Stolen from an Overwatch base in Colorado, I know," Jack said, giving a nod, "I stole them."

Winston hesitated, his mouth open to form a little "o" shape. He blinked a few times, shook his head, and finally spoke, "...Why?"

"I needed weapons. Overwatch wasn't using those anymore."

Pharah marched up to Fuse and her men and pulled the device from the ground, deactivating it, "Then this belongs to Overwatch. Where are the other weapons?"

Fuse feigned confusion, giving Pharah a smile, "I have no idea what yer talkin' 'bout, mate."

For someone who had once commanded a gang of fifty or more men, Fuse was a small lady. Even now, sitting there amonst the twelve men who had survived the onslaught from Overwatch, she was the smallest one.

"They're not yours," Winston said with a shrug, "You don't even know what they do."

"They shoot things, mate. What more do I need to know?"

The man standing behind Fuse suddenly let out a small surprised gasp and reached out to grab her by the shoulder...

Then bullets exploded through his chest, leaving Fuse and those standing around her covered in their man's blood even as he tumbled forward to the ground. Where the man had once stood, there was the form of the Reaper, shotgun smoking.

"Did I miss the party?"

A shot rang out and yet another of Fuse's men fell. Overwatch agents and Junkers alike ducked for cover to avoid the sniper fire, even as the camp was overrun with Talon's men. Reaper took a shot at an already injured Winston, but it was gobbled up by D.Va's defense matrix before it could make contact. The small teenager let out an angry yelp and swung the mech's arm out toward Reaper; the arm collided with Reaper's middle, sending him sprawling backward.

Pharah fired off a few rockets in quick succession, ridding them of around a dozen Talon agents. Fuse's men began to fire on the terrorists as well.

For now, in this one moment, it seemed they were allies.

And for one shining moment, it looked as though they were going to be able to plow through the Talon agents with no trouble. The Junkers had sheer firepower in the form of explosives, and Overwatch had advanced tech.

Then came the drop ship.

This one was shiny and new, all white and emitting a light blue glow. The logo on the side was instantly recognizable to Lucio, who's eyes widened.

"Holy shit," he yelped, "Vishkar!"

The door to the ship opened and nearly fifty heavily armed Vishkar troops jumped out, lining up one behind the other in neat, orderly rows. Reaper began to chuckle, a deep, resonating sound that seemed to echo into their heads.

"You thought we'd come without backup?"

"Fuck this!" Fuse yelped, and she turned tail and ran, followed by those of her men who had survived Overwatch's attack. Reaper stopped the Talon agents from firing on them; it was a waste of ammo to shoot down Junkers who would most likely die soon anyway in the Australian desert without any supplies.

Well, so much for _that_ alliance.

With the knowledge that a sniper was somewhere, watching them, Pharah couldn't get into the air. She'd be shot down in a heartbeat. Instead, she did the only thing she could think to do.

She fired on Reaper.

He was the closest person the troops seemed to have to a leader, so taking him out of commission, however briefly, might help. It was a panic move, and one that wouldn't work in the long run; Reaper couldn't die, she knew this. But maybe it would buy them time to run, like Fuse had done.

It didn't help.

The rocket collided with Reaper, who disappeared in a cloud of black smoke, and the troops began to fire. D.Va put up her defense matrix and everyone else ducked behind it. Pharah lept behind a nearby grove of trees and flew into the air, hopefully out of the sniper's view, calling to Mercy to follow her. Genji shouted and began to glow that green color again, drawing his sword to fight back.

Tracer dragged Jack back behind a boulder at one end of the camp in a feeble attempt to find cover. It wasn't much, but it would have to do. Jack wanted his weapon. He wanted to fight. But days with no food and very little water left him in no position to do so. Not only was he weak, he was sore. It was a new sensation he didn't particularly care for.

Getting old sucked.

Lucio had thrown himself into the same grove of trees where Pharah and Mercy were now taking refuge. He was quickly pursued by three of the Vishkar agents who had noticed him run there.

Worse yet, they'd _recognized_ him.

He knew this because they'd called him "the criminal from Brazil" as they began to track him down. He supposed it made sense; his face was probably plastered all over Vishkar headquarters. He was still wielding the stolen tech. Of _course_ they'd recognized him.

He skated frantically between the trees, zig-zagging back and forth in case they tried to shoot at him. He hadn't expected one of them to get around to the front and apprehend him, but it happened; the surprisingly small soldier grabbed him around the arm with a vice-like grip and twisted his arm up behind his back. The soldier pushed Lucio to the ground, putting all of his weight atop him to keep him still.

D.Va's angry scream made the Vishkar agents look up just in time to see her mech barreling down toward them. She flew that damn thing right into the soldier holding Lucio down, knocking him out cold, and stood over Lucio with her guns drawn. The other two soldiers wasted no time shooting; they were high tech weapons that likely did lots of damage if the projectiles hit, but they were still projectiles and they could still be destroyed by the matrix.

Which was exactly what happened. Nevertheless they continued to fire their weapons at her. That matrix had to come down soon, there was only so much it could take...

A loud noise from above signaled that Pharah's weapon of choice had been fired off, and a rocket came down onto the soldiers. There was nothing left of them once the smoke cleared. D.Va let the matrix drop and looked up to see Pharah and Mercy, nestled safely in the branches of the trees above. Pharah gave D.Va a nod of approval while Mercy jumped from the trees and gently hovered down to take a look at Lucio, who was holding the arm that had been twisted around close to his body.

Reaper, meanwhile, had managed to reassemble himself enough to get a view of what was going on.

Winston and Genji had managed to subdue some of the soldiers, but Winston was injured and Genji was tiring. Overwatch apparently had a sniper of their own who was sending arrows into the soldiers from somewhere off in the trees, keeping both the gorilla and the ninja from being completely overrun. Several Vishkar agents were pursuing one boy into the middle of a nearby grove, muttering something about having found "the criminal," whatever that meant. Reaper let out a laugh; there was no way Overwatch could win this thing. Eventually, they would be captured...

"Genji!" came a call from somewhere off in the trees, "Get out of the way!"

Genji perked up like a deer and looked in the direction of his brother's call. Instantly, he knew what Hanzo planned to do. He kicked a Talon agent in the stomach and used the momentum to turn around and slice into another's chest. Then he grabbed Winston and hefted him off behind a large tree with a surprising amount of strength; Winston didn't even have time to react to being dragged away from a fight when he heard Hanzo yell from wherever he'd perched himself:

"RYUU GA WAGA TEKI WO KURAU!"

"Brace yourself!" Genji yelled to Winston, and ducked. Winston followed suit.

Two massive dragons made of what could only be described as light and magic wound around each other, flying toward the Talon and Vishkar soldiers with a deafening roar. They hit the center of the large group head on, completely descimating whomever had been caught inside.

"What was that?" Widowmaker asked through the comm, "What happened?"

"Widowmaker, are you all right?" Reaper asked. The dragons had gone in the direction of the place he'd last seen her perched. They weren't moving quickly, by any means, but if they'd caught her off guard there was every chance she'd been injured by them.

"I'm fine," Widowmaker snapped, "What was that?"

"I don't know."

"We need to retreat," Sombra came in now, sounding pained over the comm, "They had someone at the ship. I was attacked."

"Who?" Reaper asked, "Who was there?"

"She didn't give me the honor of knowing her name before she punched me in the face," Sombra snapped back in a tone that could have rivaled Widowmaker's, "The point is, she's in the ship and heading your way. The ship has weapons, Reaper, she's going to fire."

Something akin to panic welled up into Reaper's throat. It wasn't often the obnoxious hacker actually called him Reaper. Usually she called him Gabe just to piss him off. The fact that she wasn't using his old name meant she was serious.

Well, shit.

"Retreat, now!" Reaper broadcasted into the comms for all of the soldiers to hear. Just as he finished giving the order, three of the men who had run into the grove after the boy came running back out in a sheer panic. A very large, very bright explosion followed behind them, sending them, several other soldiers standing too close, and Reaper himself, flying backward.

"Reaper?" asked Widowmaker, her voice ever so slightly tinged with worry.

"I'm fine," Reaper said as he drew himself up to his feet, "We need to go. Now."

It wasn't a clean retreat. The men who had seen the dragons come at them from the night had already run as soon as they were given the order, tails between their legs the entire way. Those who hadn't seen it had been chasing a kid through the woods and had apparently been blown up by something, so they more or less hobbled away. Reaper gave one last glare at the torn up camp.

He was so tired of losing.

With a frustrated grunt, he shifted away to the rocks where he knew Widowmaker was waiting, and left Overwatch behind.

Winston, meanwhile, practically fell out from behind the tree where Genji had dragged him, his eyes on the small grove where he'd seen Lucio, Hana, Fareeha and Angela all take cover. The explosion had come from there, from where his friends were. Panic rose up into his chest and he began to run for the trees.

"Lucio!" he called, "Hana! Fareeha, Angela!" One by one, he called their names.

One by one, they emerged into the clearing.

Lucio was cradling his arm against his chest and nursing what looked like a nasty bruise around his eye. Fareeha and Angela were scuffed up and covered with leaves, but otherwise seemed fine. Hana was without her mech. The teenager looked disheveled and sad, holding a small pistol in one hand.

"What happened?" Winston asked, stopping short in front of them, "Are you all okay, what happened?"

"I blew up my mech," Hana said, giving Winston a glance that made her look so much younger than she was.

"You what?"

"I blew up my mech."

"Those soldiers had us surrounded," Fareeha said, "She told us all to get back, to hide, and then self destructed the mech. We would have been captured or killed without her."

"I've never done that to people before," Hana said, looking mildly disturbed, "I've never had to..."

Winston nodded, placing one massive hand gently on her shoulder, "You saved your friends, Hana."

Hana nodded, "I know."

"Anyone else see the dragons?" Lucio asked, "Or did I get knocked around more than I thought?"

As if on cue, Hanzo stepped out of the bushes behind Genji. He looked over the battlefield, then looked at each one of the Overwatch agents with an uneasy glare.

Winston raised his brows, "I think...Hanzo did that."

"How?" Angela asked.

Winston shrugged, "I have no idea."

"Is that what made them run?" Fareeha asked.

"No," Jack said, startling them all. He and Tracer moved to stand with them; he was still leaning heavily on the smaller woman but didn't seem inclined to try to stand on his own. He pointed up to the sky, " _That's_ what made them run."

Everyone looked up to see Tracer's dropship decend clumsily to the ground. The door slid open and Ana came out, looking panicked. She looked around at everyone standing there, did a quick head count, and visibly slumped with relief.

"Oh, thank God."

"Mom?" Fareeha asked, "What happened?"

"Some little girl with a gun and a fancy glove tried to attack the ship," Ana said, "I think she was trying to sabotage it so we couldn't fly away."

"Talon agent?" Jack asked.

Ana shrugged, "I assume so. I don't know. All I know is, she's not a good fighter by any means. I managed to beat her, and I haven't actually had any food in four days."

"Jesus," Tracer said, "We need to get you two out of here, now."

No one was about to argue with that. Angela helped Tracer get Jack into the ship while Winston and Pharah gathered up the stolen weapons and Jack's mask. They oddly hadn't been touched since the Junkers had managed to get their hands on them; only the healing devices showed any signs of use. Once inside the ship, Tracer took the controls and lifted off. Angela got to work healing those who needed it, with Fareeha working as her nurse this time instead of Genji. Hana revealed that she had some protein snacks inside the pack she'd brought with her; it wasn't much, but it at least gave Ana and Jack something to keep them from passing out from hunger.

Ana settled back into one of the chairs with the protein bar in hand and watched Angela work. Jack had been settled into another chair beside her. He didn't say anything, but she could tell he was annoyed with her. That was fine. He could be annoyed all he needed to be. What mattered was that he was safe.

They were all safe.

And for the first time in six years, Ana Amari felt like she was going home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this chapter physically tired me. Like, trying to imagine these guys doing this fight actually made me physically sore and tired for them.
> 
> I'm not good at it, but I _really_ enjoy writing fight scenes. The action gets me all revved up. I'm ready for a nap now, and it only has a little bit to do with the fact that it's 2:30 in the morning...


	17. Secret Genius

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is _short_. Sorry.
> 
> I had it planned out to go a little earlier in the story, but it wound up not working that way, so I decided to put it here as a bit of a breather chapter before Ana and Jack make their return to Overwatch. That chapter is probably going to be a bit heavier and more emotional, so I figured I'd put this in as a breather rather than go from big fight scene straight to emotional roller coaster.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

Mei was going to _murder_ Junkrat.

When she'd walked into her lab the morning Fareeha and her team had left on their rescue mission, she'd noticed that something was amiss. Her beloved robot, Snowball, was missing. Normally she wouldn't have thought much of it; the little thing did tend to have a mind of its own sometimes and she'd more than once found it just hovering around inside the halls of Overwatch for no reason except to just be there. It was harmless, without her there to give it direct orders, so no one usually tended to mind much. If someone found it wandering around, they'd let Mei know and she would come pick it up.

But this time, Snowball's mysterious disappearance came about just two days after Mei had repeatedly told Junkrat not to touch it, _and_ she had made the mistake of not locking the lab up behind her the night before. She had no doubt that he'd walked in, taken Snowball, and left.

She'd had high hopes of developing a friendship with this guy, and now they were dashed.

First, she checked in Torbjorn's lab in her desperate search for the Junker. He wasn't there, and Torbjorn admitted that he hadn't seen Junkrat since last night. Next, she tracked down Roadhog; the big man was in the middle of a training session with Reinhardt, but mumbled that he'd seen Junkrat talking with McCree on one of the outside balconies the night before. McCree admitted to speaking with Junkrat the night before, but claimed he had no idea where the obnoxious little Junker was now. Mei had been wandering around for an hour trying to find Junkrat and hadn't had any luck, so she decided to return to her lab, dejected and pissed off.

She nearly fell over when she opened the door and saw Junkrat standing in the lab, waiting for her.

He was grinning at her like an idiot, standing there waiting for her to come back. She wanted to slap him in that moment, but took the time to compose herself. She took a few deep breaths, glared at him, and instead of immediately slapping him, said, "Where is Snowball?"

The grin on his face remained even as his eyes widened with evident panic, "Okay, so...you know..."

"Of course, I know!" Mei yelped, giving in to instinct and smacking him in the shoulder, "I'm not an idiot! You have been here every day after I've told you not to, touching Snowball! How was I not. Supposed. To know?" Each final word of that sentence was punctuated by another hit across his arms.

He raised his arms defensively, backing up, "Hey, hey, knock it off, girlie! Get off me!"

Mei gave him one final shove and let out a frustrated scream, "I'm trying not to be rude to you, Junkrat, but you make it really hard!" She took a deep breath, "I want to like you. I do."

Junkrat shrugged, "I don't...need you to...?"

Mei glared at him, rolling her eyes. "Where is Snowball?"

"Right there, mate," Junkrat said with an exasperated sigh, motioning to the table where she'd last seen Snowball resting before it had disappeared. Mei looked at Snowball, confused, then gave the little robot a horrified stare. Had it just hovered away and come back on its own? Had she just accused Junkrat of something he hadn't done? Did she really dislike him _that much_ that she wasn't even willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, even once?

She turned her stare on him, eyes wide, "I don't....I'm sorry...I..."

Junkrat waved his hand absently toward her and crossed his arms over his chest, "No, don't...do that, don't apologize. I...broke the damn thing, okay? I broke it, I took it, I fixed it, I returned it." He shrugged, "It didn't disappear on its own, I took it."

Mei's face morphed from horror to anger, to confusion mixed with anger, "What?"

"I...took your little robot, to fix it." He shrugged, rolling his eyes, "After I broke it. Because I touched it. After you'd asked me not to. Several times." He stood there staring at her, swallowed hard, and took a deep breath.

Mei narrowed her eyes, "Why would you admit to that?"

"I got some advice that hiding it from you probably wasn't a good idea." He glanced over at Snowball, sitting harmlessly on the table, "I saw you use that thing in Sydney, and figured that advice...." he shrugged, "...was probably correct."

Mei moved to the table and picked Snowball up, looking it over. She didn't know to what extent it had been broken, but she couldn't even tell it had to be repaired. That either meant the damage hadn't been as bad as Junkrat had thought, and he'd overreacted, or...

Or he'd completely destroyed Snowball and had somehow repaired all of the damage.

She looked from Snowball up to Junkrat, who was glancing back and forth between Mei and the small robot with worry all over his face. "How bad was it?"

Junkrat bit his lip, shrugged, "Bad. Practically blew up."

Of course it had. Things _did_ tend to spontaneously combust around Junkrat.

Mei gave a shrug and turned Snowball on. There was no better way to test Junkrat's repairs than to see of the little robot could still do its job. It gave a little whir and hovered up out of Mei'd hands. Frost fell from the bottom of the little sphere, creating a small snowball in Mei's palm, and the the screen on the front lit up with two triangles, emoting a little smile of hello; at least, that had been the intended facial expression when Mei had designed it.

Junkrat had even repaired the screen and the emotes that came with it.

Mei looked up at the Junker, a small smile forming on her lips, "You fixed it."

Junkrat shrugged again, "Yeah, I tried."

"No, you didn't try," Mei said softly, patting Snowball with an affectionate grin, "You did it. You made Snowball whole again. I...I can't even tell it was broken." She turned to face him fully, giving him an amazed grin, "Thank you."

"You're not mad?"

"Oh, no I'm mad that you broke it in the first place," Mei said with a nod, the grin disappearing, "I've asked you not to come in here and you did it anyway. I'm mad about that."

Junkrat nodded slowly, looking confused, "You don't sound mad..."

Mei shrugged, looking at Snowball then back toward Junkrat. The grin returned and she gave a little chuckle, "You fixed what you broke. And you admitted to breaking it, which you didn't have to do. I really do appreciate that, Junkrat."

Junkrat blinked with surprise, then gave a little nod, "Oh. Oh, good. So...yer not gonna kill me, then?"

Mei snorted, "Maybe not for this."

Junkrat giggled, "Ah, don't worry, girlie, I'll fuck up somethin' soon enough and you can kill me for _that_."

"How did you do it?"

"Do what, mate?"

"Fix it so perfectly? I lost the blueprints in Antarctica, I'm the only one who knows how Snowball works, so..." she shrugged, motioning to the little robot with both hands, "How did you fix it?"

"I just said I saw you use it in Sydney, remember?"

"That doesn't mean you should be able to fix it without the original blueprints..."

Junkrat shrugged, "Eh, I knew what it was supposed to do and what it looked like before I killed it. That was enough."

Mei raised her brows and gave him a sidelong stare, "It was?"

"Yeah," Junkrat said with a nod, "What? I'm good at fixin' shit."

That, right there, was the understatement of the century if Mei had anything to say about it. Junkrat had seen her use the robot, once, two months ago. He'd only seen it up close once or twice since then before Mei had ordered him to leave the lab. He hadn't had time to study it, to acquire knowledge of how it worked, and yet he'd been able to repair it after destroying it.

With nothing but the basic knowledge that it _created ice_.

Was Junkrat some kind of secret genius?

"You okay, girlie?" Junkrat asked, narrowing his eyes at Mei as he looked her over, "You look like yer gonna faint or somethin'."

"I'm fine," Mei said with a nod, looking once more at Snowball hovering at her side, "I do appreciate you doing this. Fixing it. And...telling me. Thank you."

Junkrat nodded, that stupid grin plastered to his face. Mei had always found that grin annoying since he'd arrived at the base; it was always there, even while he was being scolded or yelled at. He was always smiling at the worst times. But right now, the grin fit. Right now, she was matching his grin with one of her own. She'd find the time to kill him for touching her stuff later.

Right now, she was just happy she hadn't lost Snowball.

Right now, Mei was just happy to be standing here, talking with Junkrat.

She never thought she'd ever be happy about that, but there it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat strikes me as someone who's ostensibly book dumb (I like to imagine he CAN read, but he doesn't actually know what a lot of the words mean), but actually incredibly smart in the long run. Like, he knows how to build things. In the game's lore, he built his and Roadhog's weapons with whatever he could find around them. And those weapons _work_. So much so that the weapon Roadhog used before he took Junkrat as a client? He has it (it's the big gun on his back) but _he doesn't use it anymore_ just because he likes the way Junkrat's creation works better. And Junkrat built that out of literal junk. With what I assume was a basic plan but no actual blueprints. Imagine what he could do with high tech gear offered by Overwatch?
> 
> So yeah. Junkrat be dumb but smart, if that makes sense?
> 
> I like to think of him that way, in any case.


	18. Reunions, pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to nap.
> 
> I wrote instead.
> 
> Enjoy.

Tracer's dropship landed in the hangar bay just after noon. Those who had been wounded were taken directly to the med bay. Winston gave the orders to those who had remained behind to meet in the briefing room; the group who had gone on the mission would be joining them all shortly. Mei, McCree, Torbjorn, and Reinhardt all gathered in the large room and waited. Anticipation was high; Winston hadn't sounded necessarily upset, but simply more stressed than usual.

Eventually, one by one, those who had gone on Fareeha's rescue mission marched into the room. First Winston and Tracer, followed closely by Hana and Lucio. Then Angela, Genji, and last came Fareeha; she refused to meet anyone's eyes with her own, choosing instead to focus on something particularly interesting that was apparently resting at her feet.

"Everythin' okay?" McCree asked.

"You're all alive and were easily fixed up," Torbjorn said with a little shrug, "What's with the long faces?"

"This is...difficult," Winston stated, looking at each of his comrades one by one; McCree, Torbjorn, and especially Reinhardt would be affected by the news he was about to reveal. He wasn't sure Mei even knew who Ana and Jack were, but she was part of the team, and so it mattered that she know about this.

Reinhardt was looking among the group, doing a quick headcount, "You are acting as if someone has died, Winston. You all seem fine." His smile quickly disappeared when he saw Winston give him an apologetic glance, "What's wrong?"

Winston turned to Fareeha, who cleared her throat but still kept her gaze at the ground. "A few months ago, I was contacted by someone...someone important to me. This person...and I...have been communicating ever since. Two days ago, I received news that she needed help. A rescue." She looked up, her eyes meeting the large table that sat centered in the room. Usually, said table would have holographic visual aids for whichever mission they were preparing for next, but today it sat dormant; right now it was just an abnormally large table that provided somewhere for Fareeha's eye line to rest so she wouldn't have to look her friends in the eyes.

"Kiddo," McCree asked, his voice low, "...Fareeha," he corrected himself quickly; she hated it when he called her "Kiddo", "What's goin' on, sweetheart?"

Fareeha took a deep breath, gave a nod, "Ana Amari...did not die on that mission six years ago," she said, her eyes now closed, "She survived. She contacted me. She...is who we rescued."

She felt a pang in her gut that stabbed itself right up into her heart when she heard Reinhardt ask, in the smallest voice she'd ever heard come from the large man, "What?"

"My mother is alive," Fareeha said, louder this time, "She contacted me a few months ago, and we've been in communication ever since. She required help with a...rather delicate situation in Australia. A rescue. She and her travel companion...needed help."

There were a few moments of relative silence where the only sounds that could be heard were that of the room's occupants shifting uncomfortably and the loud, steady breathing coming from Reinhardt. Fareeha risked a glance up at the big man and immediately felt awful; he was truly, honestly trying not to cry, and was steadying his breathing to try to accomplish that.

"Ana's travel companion was Jack Morrison," Winston said quickly; better to tear off the band-aide now and deal with it rather than let it fester, "Both of them had been caught off guard by the Junkers who ambushed us in Sydney and needed our help getting away."

"I don't understand," Torbjorn said, finally breaking the group's silence, ".... _How_?"

Fareeha shook her head, "We don't know yet. We...haven't exactly had time to discuss the finer details."

"You said you've been talking with your mother for months," Torbjorn said, a bit more forcefully than he'd intended, "The matter of her survival never came up?"

"She didn't want to discuss it, Torbjorn," Fareeha said, matching his tone. Angela put a calming hand on her shoulder and she sighed, "She didn't want to explain. And I didn't want to press her." She finally met their eyes, giving Reinhardt an apologetic shrug, "I'm sorry."

Reinhardt stared at Fareeha, searching, "Why...didn't you tell me?"

"She asked me not to," Fareeha said, "She wanted to tell you herself. But then things got out of her control and..." she sighed, "and here we are."

"And Commander Morrison, too?" McCree asked. He'd apparently had to use the table in front of him to steady himself and was leaning forward on it, staring at it intently.

Fareeha shook her head, "I didn't know he was alive until we met up with mom in Australia," she said, "All she mentioned was that she needed help, that her friend needed rescuing. She didn't tell us who that friend was until we got there."

"He wasn't too keen on me contacting any of you at all," Ana said from her position leaning against the entryway doorframe, where she'd apparently somehow managed to stand for a while without anyone noticing; it helped that Reinhardt was standing in front of the door, so no one could actually see around him. She gave them all a dry smile as they turned to face her, "Hello."

"Holy shit," McCree said, a look of complete awe on his face.

" _How_...?" Torbjorn repeated.

"Ana..." was all Reinhardt managed to get out before emotion overtook him completely.

"I'm sorry, Reinhardt," Ana said, "After everything that happened...I just needed time."

Reinhardt didn't answer, instead just standing there. Sobs wracked the big man's body; he was beyond trying to control himself right now. Beside him, Mei put a hand on his back and rubbed gently, concern written all over her face.

Mei knew who Ana was, of course. She'd never met the Captain in person, but anyone who knew anything about Overwatch knew Ana had been the organization's best sniper and one of the founding members. Her death had begun Overwatch's downfall. Or, well, that had been public opinion. Overwatch had technically started to fall long before that.

The disaster in Antarctica had proven that.

Despite the fact that Mei had never personally known Ana Amari and only had marginal knowledge of her death, she also knew that Ana had been special to everyone she was now working with. Reinhardt and Fareeha both kept pictures of her, and there were reminders of her and other fallen Overwatch members all over the Watchpoint. Reinhardt had told Mei stories of Ana shortly after she'd arrived in Gibraltar after the recall; he spoke of her fondly, and according to Fareeha, he had planned on proposing to her once upon a time.

Mei liked Reinhardt. He was large, boisterous, and gave wonderful hugs.

Watching him break down as he stood next to her physically hurt. She didn't like seeing him upset.

It seemed everyone else felt the same way, judging by the looks on their faces.

"Ana," Angela said, stepping forward to put a hand on Ana's shoulder, "you should be in the med bay. You're severely --"

"Dehydrated, I know," Ana said, sounding exasperated, "You said that many times on the trip back from Australia."

"You need to go back and get it taken care of."

Ana looked up at Angela with a small smile, "With all due respect, Angela, I feel like you all deserve any answers to the questions you undoubtedly have. I can't answer those questions from the med bay."

Angela sighed, but said nothing. Even as pushy as she was toward making sure her patients remained healthy, she also had a very high respect for Ana's wishes.

" _HOW??_ " Torbjorn asked yet again, sounding agitated.

Ana offered him a smile and a nod, stepped toward the group, "I was shot by a Talon sniper. I hesitated, and she did not. She took my eye," she motioned to the patch that now covered the empty right socket, "and left me for dead. I awoke with no memory of who I was or what had happened, and even when I regained those memories, I knew I couldn't come back."

"Why not?" McCree asked. He'd removed his hat and was repeatedly running a hand through his hair, clearly agitated.

Ana shrugged, "I had failed, Jesse. I'd hesitated, and it got people killed. I was disappointed in myself, even if none of you would have been disappointed in me. I just...I could not come back."

"So...why are you back now?" Torbjorn asked. His tone was genuinely inquisitive, not accusatory.

Ana shrugged and took a deep breath, "Everything going on in the world? I could no longer just sit by and do nothing. I had to step in. As much as it pained me, I had to come back." She looked over at her daughter, a fond smile coming to her lips, "That was when I contacted Fareeha."

"And Commander Morrison...?" McCree asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I ran into him in Egypt," Ana answered, "He was tracking Reaper, and Talon. I had to save his life," she said, an edge of amusement to her tone.

"Yeah, but how did he survive Switzerland?" McCree asked.

Ana shrugged, "I truly do not know, Jesse. We never discussed it. He's chosen to keep that part of his life a secret, it seems."

Winston spoke up now, sounding a bit irritated, "He's the one who broke into Overwatch's weapons cache in Colorado. Apparently, Jack Morrison is Soldier: 76."

"Soldier: 76 wrecked an entire devision of the Los Muertos gang in Dorado by himself," McCree said, sounding impressed, "That was Commander Morrison?"

"That was Soldier: 76?" Tracer piped up, "I didn't know they'd identified the guy."

McCree shrugged, "Eh, not officially, really. It was sorta underground common knowledge. Soldier: 76 is a big name on some bounty boards nowadays." He looked at Ana, his eyes narrowing, "Travelin' with someone goin' by Shrike, lately. Is that...?"

Ana chuckled, "Planning on collecting the bounty on my head, Jesse?"

"I would never, ma'am."

"This sniper who shot you?" Tracer piped up now, raising her hand like she was in class and Ana was the teacher, "Who was it?"

Ana nodded, "Talon calls her Widowmaker."

Tracer nodded, making a sound of disappointment, "Ah. I figured. I was just...making sure..."

Ana tilted her head, looking Tracer over, "May I ask who you were expecting?"

"No, it's...." Tracer shook her head, "I was confirming, is all."

Ana gave Tracer a small smile, "You've seen her, haven't you? You know who she is?"

Tracer nodded, "We all do, yeah. I told them."

"Tracer was there when Widowmaker assassinated Tekartha Mondatta," Winston spoke up, "She's the one who told us we were dealing with Amelie."

"So you know about Reaper, as well, I assume?"

The nearly identical stare of confusion everyone sent her way at once told her that no, they didn't know about Reaper. Ana sighed. Great, now she'd have to tell everyone...

"Reaper is Gabriel Reyes," she said, with a sigh; like Winston, she believed it was probably best to simply say it rather than draw it out. Rip the band-aide off, as it were.

Jaws dropped around the table. Only Lucio seemed confused by this information. Angela looked like she was about to throw up, Fareeha and Winston looked angry, Tracer seemed like she'd probably flee any second, and Reinhardt was just clearly upset. Hana, who only knew of the older Overwatch members by reputation told through stories, simply looked shocked, while Mei seemed to be trying to decide what this meant.

McCree was hurt.

Ana could see it in his eyes, all over his face. He'd been a boy when he'd been brought in to Overwatch HQ and given a choice: join up or face arrest. Just seventeen when Reyes had initiated him into Blackwatch -- and Overwatch, by extension. McCree had molded himself to fit Gabriel's image, he'd changed himself to make Gabriel proud. Gabriel had wound up becoming something of a father figure to McCree over the course of his stay with Overwatch. McCree had been devastated when Angela had been unable to save Gabriel from death on that fateful day in Switzerland.

He was devastated now.

He'd watched Gabriel Reyes slowly fall into an area that had been less than morally ambiguous, watched as the man he'd once considered his hero and idol became more and more unhinged. The things McCree had seen Blackwatch do under Gabe's orders were certainly not nice things, but they had never fallen into the realm of terrorism. Knowing that not only was Gabe alive, but that he'd turned to Talon of all people when he came back, hurt Jesse McCree more than any bullet to the gut ever could have.

"I'm sorry, Jesse," Ana said, "I thought you knew."

McCree shook his head, but it was Winston who spoke up, "How would we know? He wears a mask and he's...Ana, he's not human anymore. He doesn't die. Are you one hundred per cent certain it's Reyes?"

Ana nodded, "Yes. I wouldn't be if he had not told me himself. If I had not seen his face..."

Without another word or any kind of warning, McCree left the table, gently shoved past Ana with a quiet "'Scuse me," and left the room. There were a few moments of silence where everyone wondered what they should say before Reinhardt quickly and quietly moved his way out of the room without a word, tears still brimming in his eyes. Ana watched him go, then looked back at her friends with an apologetic glance.

"I...suppose the meeting's over," Winston said quietly, "You may go."

Everyone filed out of the room without a word, no one willing to look each other in the eye. Angela quickly herded Ana back to the med bay to treat the dehydration, and Fareeha decided to follow them. Genji mentioned to Winston that he was going to find Hanzo, who was lurking around the Watchpoint somewhere, and left. Hana and Lucio decided to go for a walk outside, while Torbjorn took his leave back to his lab. This left Tracer, Mei, and Winston alone, standing in the empty hallway outside the briefing room together. No one knew what to say, and eventually it seemed to be decided that there was nothing that could be said; the trio dissipated, one by one, to go about their daily tasks as well as they could with the knowledge that nothing at all was the same anymore.

And there didn't seem to be anything they could do about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. I've been playing Mass Effect: Andromeda. Great game, y'all should really go check it out!
> 
> Anyway, this was a bit of a harder chapter to write, because in the long run I wasn't sure how to have the characters react to Ana. It can't be an easy thing, knowing someone you've lost and mourned is quite literally back from the dead. It would be overwhelming, I believe, but especially for someone like Reinhardt who (in my canon, at least) was in love with Ana. He lost her, he took some time mourning her, and he eventually moved on, so finding out she's alive has probably sent him reeling backward a few paces.
> 
> It doesn't delve too deeply into it, but if you'd like more information about how I'm treating Reinhardt and Ana's relationship in this fic, you can go check out my short oneshot Earth Shattered. It describes Reinhardt's reaction to finding out Ana "died" and might put a bit more perspective on him here, if you're interested.
> 
> At any rate, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! More to come soon!


	19. Junker Psychiatry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has gone through MANY iterations. I'm both extremely happy with how it turned out in the long run, and a bit saddened that it didn't turn out the way I'd originally planned. But plans change, and I think this one changed in a good way, even if the characters didn't seem to want to interact with each other the way I'd intended.
> 
> I'll get more into that at the end of the chapter.
> 
> Enjoy!

It wasn't a fun feeling, not knowing exactly how to feel.

Reinhardt had mourned Ana. He'd finally moved on, let her go, gone on with his life. He constantly missed her, of course, and he'd known he always would. But he'd managed.

And he hadn't had to. She'd been alive this whole time.

He couldn't help but remember the day he'd been told she was dead. His entire world had come crashing down the moment Jack had given him the news. He hadn't been able to stand, to breathe, to gain control of himself in any way. The memories of that day filled him with sadness.

He was also swelling with relief. Ana wasn't dead. She was back, and they could pick up where they'd left off. Except that he knew that wasn't true; he was afraid she'd push him away or worse, leave again.

He was angry. At Ana, for not even trying to let him know she was alive. At Fareeha, for keeping the secret he felt he had a right to know. He'd loved Ana, intended to marry her. It wasn't fair that they'd kept it a secret from him. He was also angry at himself, however, for being angry at them. Some part of him deep down inside understood exactly why they hadn't told him. He got it. He had no right to be angry at them, and it pissed him off that he was.

He was tired. Tired of losing friends to death, tragedy, and betrayal. Tired of learning that things weren't the way he'd thought they were. Tired of learning truths that he didn't want to know. Jack and Ana were alive. Gabe was alive. Amelie was alive. It was too much, too fast...

Sad. Relieved. Afraid. Angry. Tired.

His emotions were going in too many different directions to count and he couldn't get control of it all. Before he knew what he was doing, he let out a loud frustrated grunt and punched the nearest wall he could find, leaving a nice large dent behind in the shape of his massive fist. He stood there, his hand in the dent, forehead against the cool plaster of the hallway wall, breathing deeply, and let the tears flow.

He hadn't expected company in the form of Roadhog.

"What the hell?" the big man asked, poking his head out from the room he'd claimed alongside Junkrat. Reinhardt hadn't known he'd been so close to the private quarters. Oops.

He quickly tried to gain control of himself, wiping away at the tears as he turned away from Roadhog, "I'm terribly sorry, my friend. I don't know what came over me."

Roadhog shrugged and stepped out of the room, "Eh, whatever." There was a moment of silence, during which time Reinhardt could _feel_ Roadhog staring at him. He was about to excuse himself to leave when Roadhog finally spoke, "You okay?"

Such a simple question, and yet it sent new tears flowing from Reinhardt's eyes. Was he okay? No, he absolutely was not okay. He was hurting, and Roadhog was the exact wrong person to talk to about it. Reinhardt had nothing but the deepest respect for the other man, but he knew his sparring partner probably wasn't the best person to spill one's heart out to. He took a few more breaths, embarassed at how choked up he sounded, and nodded without turning to face Roadhog, "I'm fine."

"You're not," Roadhog said, bluntly.

"It's nothing to concern yourself with, Roadhog."

"I ain't concerned," Roadhog grumbled, "Your gorilla friend might be, though. With the punching walls shit."

Reinhardt gave a wry chuckle, shaking his head, "Yes, sorry about that."

Under the mask, Roadhog's eyes narrowed. It was an expression no one could see, but it was there; he knew Reinhardt was upset, but he also knew he didn't exactly care. Well, that wasn't true. He cared. He _liked_ the guy. He just didn't know how to help. He wasn't a fucking psychiatrist.

"Someone die?" he finally asked in his usual blunt tone.

Reinhardt shook his head again, "No. Quite the opposite, in fact."

Roadhog snorted, "Someone come back from the dead?" Reinhardt's complete silence answered that question for him. "Someone you didn't like?"

"No," Reinhardt repeated, slowly, "Quite the opposite...in fact."

Interesting. "Why's that bad?"

"It's not, I suppose. It's just...I don't know." Reinhardt had finally managed to get a hold of himself and turned to face Roadhog, looking tired and defeated, "I should be happy, I know. But...I'm not."

"Why?"

Reinhardt shrugged, "I thought I'd lost her. She never came back and we all thought she was dead. She wasn't. _She never came back_ , and when she finally did she...didn't tell me. She asked Fareeha not to tell me. I don't know. I'm sorry, my friend. I do not know how to describe this."

Roadhog shrugged, "So? You talk to her?"

"No."

"Why?"

Reinhardt shrugged, "I haven't had the time. I only just found out she was here."

"So fuckin' talk to her," Roadhog said, shaking his head as though the answer should have been the most obvious thing in the world, "It ain't that hard."

"It's a bit harder than you know, Roadhog," Reinhardt said, "I loved this woman. I was going to propose, and she left."

"So. Fuckin' tell her."

"Roadhog --"

"You're, what...sad? Angry? What?"

Reinhardt nodded, "Relieved she's okay. Sad she felt she couldn't come back. Angry she didn't tell me." He sighed, "She asked Fareeha not to tell me. Said she wanted to tell me herself, but she never did."

"Didn't get the chance, or didn't care?"

"Didn't get the chance. I know I shouldn't be angry with her, and that's what hurts most of all. The fact that I _am_ angry with her when I have no right to be."

Roadhog scratched at his belly, "Angry enough to punch my fuckin' wall." He gave another shrug, "Talk to her. You're good at talkin'."

Reinhardt snorted, "It's not that simple."

"You just talked to _me_ about it for some reason," Roadhog said, his tone slightly irritated; what did this guy not get? How hard was it to fucking talk to someone he supposedly loved? "You barely know me and you're over here pourin' your fuckin' heart out. Talk to _her_. Like this, idiot. It's not hard."

Reinhardt blinked a few times, then slowly nodded. Holy shit, the brute was right. He'd just stood here telling Roadhog exactly how he was feeling about the whole situation with Ana, whether those feelings made sense or not. Reinhardt wasn't sure if he was more surprised by the fact that he'd just had a moment with Roadhog, that Roadhog had allowed it and hadn't simply walked away, or that it had actually helped.

Talking with Roadhog had helped.

Reinhardt chuckled, shrugged, "I suppose you're right, my friend. Thank you."

Roadhog held up his hands as though warding off attack, "Don't start with that shit. Go away and talk to your girl."

And so he did just that, moving past Roadhog in the hallway and giving him a heavy thump on the shoulder as he did so. He would go to the med bay and talk to Ana. Get the answers he needed, and tell her how he felt. They'd been able to do it in the past, it only made sense that they should be able to do it now. It would be hard, but it had to be done.

And to think, _Roadhog_ of all people, had convinced him to do it.  
__________________________________________________________________________________

Torbjorn hadn't expected Junkrat to be in the workshop when he arrived there after the meeting in the briefing room. It wasn't that he didn't like Junkrat being there -- he'd actually, surprisingly enough, become accustomed to the Junker's presence -- but he had wanted to be alone for a little while to process things.

Ana had been his friend. He'd enjoyed spending time with her, and he'd been the one to convince Reinhardt to propose (alongside Fareeha, of course). She had been one of the people at his side when they'd started this stupid venture years ago. She'd been one of the people he'd always been able to count on in his time at Overwatch. Losing Ana Amari had almost hurt worse than losing his own arm, but he'd done his mourning and moved on.

Jack was a different story. It wasn't that Torbjorn didn't respect Jack, but he'd never really liked the man. Jack Morrison had always been a cocky human being who didn't know when to just shut his mouth and leave well enough alone. Jack liked to talk, and he did have a charming air to him, when he wasn't being a smarmy bastard. But he'd also been Torbjorn's superior, and he was a damn good leader, personal feelings be damned. Torbjorn may not have liked Jack Morrison, but he'd respected him; he'd felt the loss of their leader just as much as everyone else had.

Knowing they were both alive...it was hard to process.

Knowing Junkrat was in the room with him as he tried to process it was distracting, but he also didn't want to just kick the kid out and make him feel unwelcome; they didn't need another fire on their hands because Junkrat's feelings got hurt.

He'd had plans to simply walk by the boy, go back to his projects and just think. But of course, like usual, Junkrat had found someone to talk to, and just couldn't keep quiet.

"How'd your meeting go?" he asked. He had the air of someone who was just talking to fill silence, but didn't actually care what was being said.

Torbjorn shrugged, "Not...like I expected."

"Hmm," Junkrat said, looking over whatever weapon modification he was building now; his good arm was covered up to the elbow in grease, but he'd done a surprisingly good job of keeping the prosthetic clean. Torbjorn had needed to remind him several times that fake limbs tended to work better when the gears weren't all stopped up with dirt, and it seemed the Junker had taken the advice to heart. "Your friends all okay?"

Torbjorn nodded, "Yes. More than okay."

"Then why are you angry?"

Was he? He didn't know he'd come off that way when he'd come into the room. He didn't feel angry. He felt...heavy. Like he needed to get some weight off his chest. He kind of felt like crying would help, but he wasn't much of a crier, so there was just this heavy feeling in his heart he couldn't quite get rid of.

"I'm not," he finally managed to mutter.

Junkrat, despite himself, was concerned. Torbjorn was usually a fountain of energy, often angry, always productive. Even when he wasn't moving, he was always working on something, and constantly urged Junkrat to do the same. As long as you were in his workshop, you were holding a tool and helping out in some way. Now, Torbjorn was just standing beside his desk, leaning against it and breathing heavily.

"You ain't okay, neither," Junkrat said, standing up and taking a tentative step toward the older man. He was worried. Torbjorn was one of the people Junkrat liked most in this stupid place. If he was sick or something, he should go get some help so he didn't keel over. Junkrat was terrible at helping people though, so instead he just kind of stood there, staring.

Torbjorn shook his head, "I will be. Soon enough. Don't worry yourself."

"....Okay," Junkrat said slowly, "You wanna explain what's happenin', or no?"

"Not particularly," Torbjorn's tone was curt, but not unfriendly. He sighed, "I'm fine, Junkrat. I just...need to process things."

Junkrat shrugged, "Okay. Things like what?"

Christ, this kid was nosy, wasn't he? "A lot of information was tossed around in that briefing room, is all. It's a lot to take in, so I need you to be quiet and stop asking questions. Understood?"

Junkrat nodded, "Sure."

And he remained quiet, much to Torbjorn's surprise. The Junker went back to putzing around with whatever he was building and didn't say a word. He didn't even seem hurt by the rebuff. Torbjorn wished he could be that nonchalant about things. It would make the mountains of new information now swirling around in his head a bit easier to swallow.

How, exactly, was one supposed to react to a cherished friend quite literally coming back from the dead? Was he supposed to be happy? Sad? Angry? What? He didn't know. Right now, he just felt numb, with a little side of awestruck. Ana and Jack were alive, Gabe was apparently alive. These were people he knew, people he'd worked alongside, people he'd started Overwatch with. He'd always liked Ana, hadn't really gotten along with Jack or Gabe all that well, but they'd been a team for so long that it hardly mattered. They'd worked together, trusted each other, respected one another. And one by one, they'd all fallen. Ana, lost on that stupid mission. Jack and Gabe, supposedly killed in Switzerland on the day Overwatch fell. Even Reinhardt hadn't escaped unscathed, having been forced to retire shortly after Ana's death.

Overwatch had fallen apart, and Torbjorn had lost friends and comrades one by one. These people were essentially his family away from family, his home away from home. There was so much to process about them being _not dead_ that there wasn't anything for Torbjorn to feel except completely numb. He'd even moved past that initial feeling of wanting to cry at this point. He just...couldn't feel anything at all.

"You ever lose someone important to you, boy?" he suddenly found himself asking Junkrat, without much prompting.

Junkrat, who had leaned back in his chair with his legs propped up against his desk as he scewed something into his new contraption, looked up at Torbjorn with a furrowed brow, "What, mate, someone die? You said everyone was--"

Torbjorn shook his head, waving the question away with his good hand, "No, not this time. Everyone came back fine. Relatively."

Junkrat raised his eyebrows, "So...why ask about death then?"

Torbjorn sighed and turned to face the Junker, but didn't actually look at him, instead just staring at a spot on the far wall. He shrugged, "I've lost friends over the years. I mourned them. I moved on. Like anyone would." He finally met Junkrat's eyes with his own one good one, "So how am I supposed to react when I find out they're not actually dead?"

Junkrat gave a confused look, working his jaw a bit before speaking, "Wait, you're upset because someone's _not_ dead? I don't follow, mate. Shouldn't that be a _good_ thing?"

It should be, true. Junkrat was certainly right about that. "It's been six years since they...died," Torbjorn said, hesitating at the use of the word; they technically weren't dead, so it felt odd even saying it that way, "Now I'm finding out they're not quite as dead as we believed. They just...faked it."

Junkrat shrugged, "So?"

"So, how am I supposed to react to that? Friends I had for years dying and suddenly coming back? Comrades. Teammates. These were people I trusted and respected."

"I don't get it, mate," Junkrat said, lifting his legs from the desk and planting both feet firmly on the floor beneath his chair, "Shouldn't this be a good thing? They're not dead! Yay! I mean, right?"

Torbjorn shrugged, "I don't know."

Junkrat raised is bushy brows and spread his arms wide with a shrug, "How would that be anything but good, mate?"

"They lied. They left us alone to deal with the aftermath of their deaths and...they weren't dead. How is that supposed to be a good thing?"

"People rarely fake their own deaths for shits and giggles," Junkrat said, "I mean, they had to be in a bad spot to do somethin' like that. I _highly_ doubt it was malicious."

"I never said it was."

"You're kinda actin' like you think it was, mate."

Torbjorn shook his head, gave Junkrat an angry glare, then sighed and rubbed at his forehead, "I...don't think it was, no. I _know_ it wasn't. It just...hurts. Knowing they lied. Even if the reason made sense at the time. It hurts."

Junkrat nodded, "I get that. I mean...I don't, because I don't have friends, so I don't know what it's like to lose 'em, but...I guess...I mean, I think I can empathize. Just, like, imaginin' Roadie doin' somethin' like that. Fakin' his own death, or whatnot. It wouldn't be fun."

Torbjorn let out a sad little chuckle, "It's not."

"But, at the same time, I doubt it's fun for your dead friends, neither," Junkrat said, picking at his dirty fingernails, "So, since you're askin' me how you should feel, I think you should feel happy they're back instead of makin' 'em feel even shittier for runnin' away in the first place. 'Specially since they probably had what seemed like a good reason to run, in their minds."

Torbjorn snorted, "Since when are you insightful, boy?"

"I'm always insightful, mate," Junkrat said, spreading his arms wide with a manic grin, "No one recognizes my genius, is all!"

Despite himself, Torbjorn felt a smile crossing his lips and he sighed. He still felt like there were too many emotions to process through in this moment, but at least he could maybe get on the right track now. He had to be happy that Ana and Jack were back, he couldn't blame them for running. It wasn't their fault they'd felt the need to do so, and despite how hurt he was by the whole thing, Torbjorn _was_ ecstatic to see them alive. It was good news, even through the tears and heartache.

Another part of his old team was back, and that felt good.

Now he had to make sure they felt the same way about it.

"Thank you, Junkrat," Torbjorn said, before he could stop himself. He chuckled, "Believe it or not, you actually did help me."

Junkrat shrugged, "I believe it. I'm a good guy like that. You're welcome, by the way."

Torbjorn chuckled a bit, despite himself, and settled down into his chair to look over the blueprints settled there. He wasn't sure he'd be able to work right now, but at least the prints gave him something to look at while he contemplated things. He finally decided that, first things first, there was something he had to clear up with the man who was sharing his workspace.

"For what it's worth, boy," he said, speaking to Junkrat without turning to face him, "you do have at least one friend here."

He could hear Junkrat give a snort behind him, "I don't really think Roadie considers me a friend, mate."

"Me, idiot," Torbjorn said, without turning around, "I meant me."

Junkrat didn't respond, but that was okay with Torbjorn. The silence that filled the room was actually welcome at this point; the Junker was a good kid and was surprisingly smart, but he talked far too much. It was nice to just be able to take in the quiet for a while and think, sort through his emotions to eventually find his way toward "happy." He would, at some point, have to talk to Ana and Jack, let them back in and let them know that he'd be there to talk, if they needed it. He wasn't usually much of a talker, but he _did_ like being there for his friends, so he'd go out of his comfort zone for them, if needed.

Especially since, if Junkrat of all people could do it, he probably could, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my original plan was to have Junkrat speak with Reinhardt to further establish their friendship. But, not only did I already kind of have a tiny friendship building moment between them in earlier chapters, it also occurred to me that I've mentioned several times that Reinhardt and Roadhog were getting along. I've mentioned a couple of times and Junkrat and Torbjorn seemed to be getting along.
> 
> _But I hadn't actually shown this in the story itself yet_ , so everyone was just kind of relying on Word of God. Like, trust me, guys. These people like each other even though you've never once seen them interact with each other! Promise! So, the chapter changed to reflect those relationships I hadn't shown yet, and I'm really happy with how it turned out. I plan on doing this more in future chapters as well, because I really feel like I need to get some more character interactions in here between the Overwatch members. Like, it occurs to me now I haven't written much to do with Genji _at all_ , outside of Pharah's views of him, so I need to bring him into this feels train too.
> 
> Ooh, I'm excited! I hope you guys are, too!


	20. Family Ties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know who's hard to write?
> 
> Hanzo.

When the shuttle had landed, Genji had instructed his older brother to go put on some warmer clothing. Australia had just started their summer season, so it had been warmer there; Hanzo's clothing worked much better in a warmer climate. However, in Sweden, winter was beginning to set in, and so the exposed shoulder and loose thin clothing would cause nothing but endless discomfort and pain. Genji had suggested Hanzo visit the acquisitions office to see if they had any extra clothing in his size, but Hanzo had assured him he had clothes of his own, simply asking for directions to a place he could go change. Genji told him how to get to his quarters, and followed the others to the briefing room.

The matter of Hanzo as a guest in the Watchpoint hadn't come up during the meeting. Everyone had been too distracted at the idea of Ana and Jack being alive to care if someone they didn't know was hanging around, so Genji had simply let the matter rest for now. Eventually, someone would ask questions, and that was fine. He'd handle it as it came up.

When the meeting ended and everyone dispersed, Genji let Winston know Hanzo was still around and that he was going to track him down; at least, he hoped Hanzo was still around. It was entirely possible his older brother had decided to leave without a word. Winston hadn't seemed to hear him, but Genji didn't mind. The big scientist had a lot on his mind right now, Genji knew.

Everyone did. It wasn't easy to come back from the dead.

He found Hanzo on a rather precarious overlook atop one of the buildings, nestled into the side of a cliff; an overlook with no railings and a means to get up there that boardered on impossible. No one ever came up here, for obvious reasons, so the place was covered in snow. Hanzo, dressed in jeans and a leather jacket, was kneeling down at the edge of the overlook like some kind of wolf, looking out over the mountain view and the majority of the Watchpoint compound below.

Hanzo had a way of finding the quiet areas no one visited.

"Hanzo," Genji said quietly, in an attempt to let his brother know he was there without startling him.

If Genji's voice had startled him, Hanzo didn't make it known. The older man simply glanced over his shoulder at his brother and gave a small nod, "Genji."

"Are you not cold?"

Hanzo huffed, a smirk coming to his lips, "I will manage."

Genji chuckled, "Of course. Why are you up here?"

Hanzo's gaze shifted back out to the view before him, "Several of your people had questions. One threatened to lock me in a cell. They could not follow me here."

"Ah, yes. I'm sorry, brother," Genji said with a nod, "I have not had time to make your presence known here."

Hanzo shrugged, "It matters not."

They stood in silence for a few moments, both just staring out at the mountains. Below them, Genji could see McCree standing outside, leaning against a hangar railing, smoking a cigar. He looked so small from up here, and Genji decided he'd have to remember this place for later. It was a good place to be alone for a bit to think, in a compound where it was difficult to get away for a while. Genji loved his friends, but there were times he would rather be alone with his thoughts to meditate, and they often made that hard. Knowing this place was here would probably help with that.

"How did your team take the news?" Hanzo finally said, breaking Genji out of his thoughts.

Genji crossed his arms and took a deep breath, "Better than I thought. Worse than I'd feared."

Hanzo blew air out his nose in a soft snort, "Learning someone has returned from the dead is not easy to accept, brother."

Genji nodded, "That is true."

Hanzo pushed himself to his feet and turned to face Genji, his brow furrowed, "Why did you return here?"

"I had to," Genji said with a small shrug, "They needed me."

"They needed you, specifically?" Hanzo asked, looking skeptical, "They need much more than just you, Genji."

Genji nodded, "I know. We are trying. It is not easy."

"You plan on staying?"

"Yes, brother. I do."

"They are bound to fail here, at whatever they are attempting to do," Hanzo said, "You know this."

Genji shook his head, "I do not, brother. My friends are attempting something great. They may fail, true, but I do not believe they _will_." He shrugged, "I intend to help make sure it succeeds."

"Hmm," was all Hanzo said, looking away, back toward the mountains.

"Why did _you_ come here, Hanzo?" Genji asked. His tone was genuinely curious, not condescending in any way. He knew Hanzo was here for him, but he wasn't sure what his brother's intentions were beyond that. Did he intend to try to sway Genji from Overwatch? Join Overwatch himself? What did Hanzo have planned beyond, "Find Genji"?

"I came looking for you," Hanzo said. It was exactly what Genji had expected, "Beyond that...I do not know."

"You are more than welcome to stay here," Genji said with a nod.

Hanzo shook his head, giving a condescending grin, "No, Genji. I think you and I both know I am not welcome here."

"What makes you say that?"

Hanzo kicked at a loose piece of snow covered ice with the toe of his right boot, sticking his hands in his pockets to keep them warm. The clouds were beginning to swirl overhead again, likely bringing another snowstorm along for the ride. "They are not stupid, Genji. They know who I am. They know what I've done."

"What you've done?"

"To you."

Genji tilted his head to the side, then shrugged, "I am beyond that, brother."

"I'm not doubting you are," Hanzo said, "But I am doubting your friends are. They saw what I did to you. They are not fools. They will not trust me."

"So, you don't have a plan?" Genji asked, crossing his arms over his chest, "You came all this way to find me, followed Ana and Jack in the hopes they would lead you to me, and you don't have any idea what you're going to do now that you're here with me?" He chuckled a bit, shaking his head, "You usually plan things out much farther in advance, my brother. I'm surprised at you."

Hanzo shrugged, "I only had one goal. I did not think much beyond that." He gave Genji a small, affectionate grin, "You may have rubbed off on me a bit."

Genji chuckled, "Would that be so bad?"

"No," Hanzo said almost immediately in answer to the question, "No, it would not."

There was a short moment of silence before Genji stepped forward and put a comforting hand on his older brother's shoulder. Hanzo flinched at the touch, then relaxed, hesitantly bringing his own hand up to cover Genji's on his shoulder. It occured to Genji then that, aside from the surprise attack hug he'd levelled on Hanzo in Australia, Hanzo hadn't actually touched Genji since his...change. The flinch had been because he'd been unsure what it would feel like to touch the hand of a man who was, technically, no longer human.

Many people reacted to him that way.

Once upon a time, it had bothered him. Now, he'd been taught to understand.

"I'm sorry..." Hanzo said, his voice a quiet whisper so low Genji had to strain to hear it.

Genji, almost without thinking, pulled Hanzo into a hug. This time, Hanzo returned it fully and without hesitation, without flinching. It felt good to hug his brother again. They'd been so close before the fallout, before Hanzo had followed orders given to him by people who didn't understand the bond they'd shared. It was a bond that, despite all that had been thrown at them, would not be broken.

It might need some mending, but Genji would ensure it wouldn't break.

"Don't worry yourself, brother," Genji whispered in Hanzo's ear, "I have forgiven you. It's time for you to forgive yourself." He could feel rather than see Hanzo nodding into his shoulder through the hug. Finally, Genji released Hanzo and held the older man at arm's length. He gave Hanzo a pat on the shoulder and a nod, then released him.

"We will have to make your presence known here," Genji said, "even if you are only staying for a short time."

"I do not know how long I'll stay," Hanzo said, looking absently out at the view around them.

Genji nodded, "Well, even if you leave, you will need free access to walk through the front gate. That is easier to achieve when people know you're here." He looked around and spread his arms wide with a chuckle, "Look at where they've chased you, Hanzo. Surely you don't think they'll let you leave without a fight unless I speak up for you."

Hanzo gave a small smirk and shook his head, "Let your people know I'm here. I have no plans, beyond this. I might stay for a few days."

"I will do that, then." Genji turned to climb back down the way he'd come, then realized Hanzo wasn't behind him and faced his brother once more, "You will need to come with me. You can return here later, if you wish. But Winston will want to speak with you."

Hanzo sighed, nodded, and stepped toward Genji, "Fine. Lead the way."  
__________________________________________________________________________________

Even through the increasing cold, McCree felt warm. He'd lit a cigar to smoke, hoping it would calm him, but all it had done was rattle his nerves further. He'd walked out here almost subconciously, without a jacket of any kind. The clouds were beginning to swirl above the mountains again, signalling another incoming snow fall. The air was probably pretty biting right now to anyone who was paying any attention, which he was not.

Gabriel Reyes was alive. That was the only thought occupying his mind right now.

Well, not the only thought. There were other bits of this news that had rattled him a bit more than finding out his old mentor was not quite as dead as everyone had believed. He might have been able to handle that information on its own. Maybe. It would have been hard to accept but he thought he'd handled Ana's return rather well, despite outwardly wanting to throw up, pass out, or both. He'd loved Ana, everyone had, and it had been a huge blow when she'd died. He'd respected Jack, and losing him had effectively killed what remaind of Overwatch at that point as well.

But Gabe...

Gabriel Reyes had been like a father to McCree. The man had essentially saved his life; he would have eventually died a very painful death had he remained in New Mexico with the Deadlock gang. That gang had many, many enemies, and none of them would have given a shit that McCree had only been a seventeen year old boy at the time. They would have ripped him limb from limb alongside the rest of the gang, no questions asked, no mercy given. Then Overwatch had swooped in, taken Deadlock out, and wisked McCree away. He'd been resiliant to the idea of joining at first, but Gabe had eventually talked some sense into him.

It was join Overwatch, or spend the rest of his life in prison.

McCree had been a criminal, but because he'd been so young, Gabe had taken pity on him. McCree later found out that Gabe had gone around Jack to Ana to keep him around; Jack had wanted the kid arrested and didn't care about second chances. Ana had eventually been able to sway Jack's opinion and McCree, who hadn't really been willing to go to prison at the time, had reluctantly joined Overwatch, recruited into Blackwatch.

He'd hated it, too. At first.

But Gabe had been surprisingly patient with him, considering the temper he usually used on the rest of the men in Blackwatch. He'd taught McCree everything there was to know about proper combat and gun usage, he'd trained him, even given him his own mission to head up once or twice.

McCree had loved Gabriel Reyes like a father.

A lot of people would have said Gabe had a temper, and that was true; the man constantly felt like he'd been brushed aside or forgotten more often than not and he often let it get to him. Whatever friendship he'd had with Jack Morrison had completely fallen apart as the years went on, and the two often came to blows over the simplist of arguments. But despite the anger and fighting, McCree had trusted Gabe. He'd loved Gabe.

He'd never considered that his old mentor, friend...father figure...could wind up a terrorist.

He hadn't been able to see Gabe when his body was pulled from that rubble in Switzerland, the day the Overwatch HQ blew up with him inside. McCree had heard there might be a chance to save him, but it hadn't worked, and everyone had been forced to attend the double funeral held for Jack Morrison and Gabriel Reyes. McCree had never felt so empty as he did in that moment, standing over Gabe's grave, crying like he'd never cried before.

He'd moved on. He'd done his best to live by everything Gabriel Reyes had taught him.

What did it all mean, if Gabe was actively trying to kill him now?

According to Winston, Watchpoint: Gibraltar had been ransacked by Talon in an effort to find the files that would lead to the locations of all of the remaining Overwatch agents left alive. A list that held McCree's name alongside many others. Reaper had lead that attack. Reaper had nearly killed Winston in that attack.

A friend. Winston had been his friend.

Jack and Ana had been his friends. Tracer had been his friend. Torbjorn, Reinhardt, Angela...They'd all been friends to Gabriel Reyes, and he'd been perfectly willing to hunt them down, to kill them.

He'd been willing to kill McCree.

He'd pointed his gun at McCree in Sydney, with the explicit aim to blow him away. Had he not hesitated...had Genji not intervened...

_I don't fib, boy._

Gabe had, in that moment, had every intention of killing McCree.

And knowing that...it _hurt_.

Something inside McCree burst forth and he did something he hadn't done since the day of Gabe's funeral: he cried. He stood out on that balcony, in the cold, and let the tears flow down his face, into his beard. The tears became full sobbing, and he was shaking, barely able to stand. The cigar in his hand dropped to the ground at his feet, smoking feebly in the chilly wind.

"Jesse?"

The voice took him off guard for a second, until he realized who it was. Fareeha had managed to sneak up on him and was now standing there staring at him with concern. She was holding his jacket as well, which he appreciated.

He _was_ starting to feel a bit cold.

"Hey, kiddo," McCree said, wiping at his nose but letting the tears flow, "Sorry."

Fareeha shook her head, tears coming to her own eyes, "Don't be," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She walked forward and draped the coat over his shoulders, then stood beside him, looking out at the mountains rather than directly at him. She was giving him time to cool off; she wanted to talk to him about this, but she was going to wait until he was ready.

He wasn't sure he would ever be.

It was a while before he managed to get control of his crying, but even then he didn't speak to her, just standing next to her in silence. It was nice to have the company, at least.

"Are you okay?" she asked, looking up at him with a sad, comforting grin.

In that moment, she was a lanky teenage girl again, standing beside him at Gabe and Jack's funeral with tears in her eyes.

He shook his head, scratching at his chin absently, "No," he said, his tone curt. He wasn't angry at her, and he hoped she understood that. She'd asked a question and he had answered it.

He was not okay. Nothing about this was okay.

Fareeha nodded, put a hand on McCree's shoulder, gave it a light squeeze, "I'm sorry."

McCree chuckled, "I just...never thought he'd be capable of..." He cut himself off with a defeated sigh.

"I know," Fareeha said, sounding choked up, "I...I know..."

Of couse she knew. Fareeha had called Reyes "Uncle Gabe" for most of her life. The man had babysat her, for Christ sake, given her piggy back rides and played tea party. McCree and Gabe had both taken great pleasure in sneaking her candy bars and cookies behind her mother's back after Ana had already told her no to having them before dinner. They'd been good naturedly lectured several times by Ana over the matter, and still they'd continue to do it. Gabe had been the first person in the Watchpoint to give Fareeha her first real sparring session; it had left Ana incredibly angry and Fareeha bloodied and bruised, but she'd loved every minute of it.

Fareeha had loved Gabe just as much as McCree had.

Of course she'd know how he was feeling.

"He would've shot me," McCree muttered, shaking his head, "in Sydney. If Genji hadn't stepped in to intervene..."

Fareeha shook her head, "No. He hesitated, Jesse. That's why Genji even had time to step in. Reaper _hesitated_ when he saw you standing in front of his gun. I thought it was weird, when I saw it happen." She paused, pushed a strand of hair behind one ear, "He didn't want to shoot you."

"Sweetie, just because he thought twice about it doesn't mean he didn't plan on doin' it."

To be honest, McCree had noticed the hesitation as well, but he hadn't thought too much about it. The fact of the matter was, in that split second Reaper thought twice about taking McCree's life, Genji had time to jump in. If Genji hadn't jumped in...

McCree might not be standing here now, discussing it.

Reaper had hesitated, that much was true. But he'd still been brandishing a weapon against an injured man who had no way of properly defending himself at that point in time. He'd still made the threat, and his hand had still tightened on that trigger. It's funny, the things McCree noticed when he was getting that rush of adrenaline; he'd seen Reaper's hand clamp down on that gun for one brief tenth of a second before Genji had slashed him down. Reaper had hesitated, but he hadn't stopped himself. He'd still planned on shooting.

Fareeha didn't say a word, instead simply giving his shoulder a nother light squeeze and removing her hand.

"Why ain't you with your mom?" McCree asked, unable to make his voice go louder than a whisper.

Fareeha shrugged, a small sad smile coming to her lips, "Reinhardt said he needed to talk to mom alone. He probably needs the alone time with her more than I do."

McCree nodded, rubbed at his nose with one finger, and leaned forward on his elbows on the railing in front of him, "Why didn't you bring this up earlier, sweetheart? Your mom bein' alive? Why spring that on us?"

Fareeha took a deep breath and leaned against the railing in much the same way McCree had, entwining her fingers together and examining the nails of her left hand, absently, "I didn't believe her, at first. She just...sent a letter and expected me to just accept it as fact, that she was back. It took a lot of convincing on her end, several weeks before I finally...believed." She shrugged, shaking her head, "Once she'd convinced me...she asked me not to tell. Said it was something she had to do herself. I guess she just...never got around to doing it."

McCree nodded, "I mean, I get it. I do. She wanted to spring her news in her own time and that's fine, but...Fareeha, why not mention somethin' before launchin' a huge rescue mission to get her back? Why not just tell everyone the truth?"

"It's not as simple as that, Jesse."

"You can't protect everyone from their own feelings, Fareeha," McCree said, turning his tear stained face to look at her. He wasn't angry or even mildly upset. He just wanted to _understand_. "You're not responsible for makin' sure everyone's okay. People had a right to know." He sighed, "'Specially Rein."

Fareeha gave a pained look, squeezing her eyes shut, and nodded, "I know. I just...It was hard. I didn't know how to even bring it up. What was I supposed to say, Jesse? It's not easy to just...bring it up in every day conversation."

"How 'bout when Winston asked you what was goin' on? You coulda said somethin' then."

Fareeha nodded again, "True."

McCree sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, then rubbed one eye. He gave Fareeha a sidelong glance, and a sad grin, "I'm sorry, Fareeha. I know this had to be hard on ya, and I don't mean to chastize ya for it, I just...I'm hearin' a lotta folks I thought were dead are comin' back, and it's hard to take in."

"I know. I'm sorry."

McCree shook his head, "Don't be, kiddo. I'm gonna work through this, we all are. It'll be okay. Promise."

Fareeha took a deep breath, shivering slightly in the cold, "I hope so. Everyone seemed really upset. Mostly Reinhardt."

McCree slipped his arm around Fareeha's shoulders, "He's talkin' to Ana. That counts for somethin'."

"Yeah," Fareeha said, absently nodding, "You know what's odd? He told me Roadhog told him to talk to her. That he basically said to stop sulking and open up to my mom." She quirked a brow and gave McCree a disbelieving shrug, "Roadhog. That man doesn't even look at me when we pass by each other in the hallway, but somehow he provided Reinhardt with some sage advice that got him to talk to my mom."

McCree laughed -- a full, hearty belly laugh that he honestly probably needed right now -- and shook his head, "Roadhog? Really? Yeah, those two do have one odd friendship, that's for sure."

Despite herself, Fareeha joined him in his laughter, and McCree found his mood rising a little. He'd lost Gabriel Reyes to Talon, but the rest of his family was right here with him in Sweden, and that counted for something.

Right now, that counted for _everything_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I remember reading a couple of comics on Tumblr (possibly by the same person?) that showcased Gabe and Fareeha back in Overwatch's golden days. It was a short comic detailing how Ana asked him to babysit, and he was reluctant to do it, but he did it anyway...
> 
> Then it cut to later, with them having a tea party together and Fareeha calling Gabe "Uncle Gabe," and I fell in love with the idea that their relationship was like that. Gabe, who's always made to be this big, gruff, tough leader type, has a soft side when it comes to young Fareeha, and he in turn is one of the people she's closest to inside Overwatch.
> 
> So, I decided to make that canon in this story and turn up the "Reaper-is-actually-Gabriel-Reyes" angst.
> 
> Because I am nothing if not a sucker for angst.


	21. Infuriating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been playing Mass Effect: Andromeda.
> 
> I've been playing a lot of Final Fantasy XIV.
> 
> I've been playing lots of Overwatch.
> 
> I've been trying to plan out the next part of this series before I get too close to finishing this one.
> 
> I got a job.
> 
> So yes. Busy couple of weeks. Sorry this took so long. Enjoy.

"You lost him?"

From her seat on the chair before the large monitor, where she was nursing a rather painful bruise on her cheek, Sombra sighed. She'd known making this call to Symmetra would be a difficult one, if only because the other woman was so _infuriating_. Symmetra had this bad habit of thinking that everything should be easy when it wasn't. Everything should always work out in her favor. She often took failure personally, and it didn't matter how hard one tried, they would always be a loser.

Sombra had lost Symmetra's trust.

And oddly, that stung a bit.

"There were others there," Sombra said, letting her casual veneer slip a bit to reveal her irritation, "He wasn't alone, and his companions almost blew up the place. People died, Symmetra. You don't care about that?"

Symmetra shrugged, "They died doing their jobs. They died trying to bring the thief back to us," She narrowed her eyes at Sombra, "Which was something you failed to do."

"Listen," Sombra said, sitting up and adjusting the ice pack against her bruised cheek; Jesus, that old broad hit hard, "we weren't just there for him. We were there for information regarding Overwatch's whereabouts."

"Which you also failed to retrieve."

"I didn't know they'd have the toughest old lady in the world guarding their stupid ship," Sombra said, once again letting her irritation be known. She'd been taken by surprise when she went to hack into the navigation system aboard Overwatch's dropship. She hadn't expected someone to be there, waiting. It was smart of them, and in hindsight, Sombra probably should have given Overwatch more credit in that regard. It wouldn't have been as easy as she'd expected, of course. Why would it be?

The part that flattened her pride more than anything else was that her attacker had to have been about sixty years old. Oh, Sombra wasn't exactly the best at hand to hand combat, but she wasn't a slouch, either. She knew enough to defend herself, and she could rely on her stealth generator and her own clever ingenuity to get out of any situation she found herself in, especially an old lady battle. But the old woman sitting at that ship waiting for her friends to return had apparently been a trained soldier at some point, because she'd nearly knocked Sombra clean out with a well placed punch. Had Sombra not placed a translocator beacon back on the overlook where she'd left Reaper, she may have been captured or killed by what was apparently the world's toughest grandma. The punch had knocked her out of her senses enough that she almost completely forgot why she'd gone to that ship in the first place.

That was, until she met up with Reaper and Widowmaker in the dropship and they informed her of her own stupidity.

She hated being reminded of when she'd done something dumb. She knew it when it happened. It didn't happen often, but when it did, it was a _huge_ slight to her pride. Her companions made sure to hammer the point home that she'd failed, and it angered her.

She wanted to find Overwatch now more than ever, if only just to prove she _could_.

"You promised results," Symmetra said, eyes narrowing through the monitor, "You did not deliver."

Sombra rolled her eyes and gave Symmetra a smirk, "What are you going to do? Fire me? You may need to talk to Sanjay about that first, since he's the one who's actually in charge."

If looks could kill Sombra would be dead and buried six feet under. Symmetra could have started a fire with the glare she gave. "Do. Not. Screw up again," Symmetra said, emphasizing each word with a direct point in Sombra's direction, "This is a warning, Sombra. Get us results. Soon."

Without another word, Symmetra ended the video call, leaving Sombra alone in a dark room lit only by an empty monitor.  
__________________________________________________________________________________

The bad news was, only ten members of Fuse's gang remained alive.

The good news was, they had a lead.

The old couple they'd kidnapped had been rescued by the monkey from Sydney, who Fuse had discovered later worked for Overwatch. The monkey and his men had stolen Junkrat away to safety, and with him, his treasure. If the monkey and his men worked for Overwatch, and they had come to rescue the old couple, that meant the old couple worked for Overwatch.

And the old woman had specifically mentioned Sweden.

The location had been mentioned a few times by Fuse's Scouts, as they came back from their tracking missions; the old woman had a contact up north who could fly them to Sweden. At first, Fuse thought nothing of it. She'd assumed they'd been fugitives on the run or something, and hadn't cared too much about their destination. But when that monkey had pounced them along with his friends, the pieces suddenly clicked together inside Fuse's brain.

Overwatch was in Sweden, and Junkrat was most likely with them there.

Fuse had lost men. She'd lost supplies. She'd lost out on a big bounty with the two old people. She'd lost Sway.

She was tired of losing.

Sway's death had to have been the last straw. He'd been Fuse's right hand for years, a beacon of security and trust she was always able to rely on. She'd cared about him, even moreso than the rest of her men. He was valuable, strong, a good person to have on your side in a fight.

And she'd lost him.

She'd find the bastard who had driven that arrow through his throat. She'd find Junkrat and Roadhog and make them pay for everything that had been done to her and her gang. She'd find them, she'd get what she wanted, and she'd kill them both in the most painful way possible. Maybe make Junkrat watch as she tore Roadhog limb from limb. Make him watch as the only thing he cared about in the world was ripped away from him.

Yes. That would work.

The only problem was, she didn't have any idea where in Sweden Overwatch could be. Sweden itself wasn't exactly a tiny country. Fuse had contacts, sure, but the one person she could think of off the top of her head would charge quite the exorbitant fee for any information regarding Overwatch's whereabouts. Maybe it was worth it? She wasn't sure. Said contact was pretty infuriating to work with, and if Fuse was wrong about this, she'd never live it down.

Still, it had to be worth a try.

For Sway.

So, she sent a letter. It would take a week or two to find its recipient, to be sure; it was hard to send a letter to someone when you didn't actually know exactly where they were. She had faith that her contact would find it, though. This person had ways.

Hopefully it would work out this time.

Fuse was so tired of losing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I kinda sorta fucked myself over by bringing Hanzo in when I did. See, I had planned for him to make his entrance later on in the story, and his appearance would almost kind of head off the final act. Instead, I got ideas and pushed his arrival forward a bit. I like the way it turned out, in the long run, but it's meant that I'm scrambling a bit to find a way to bring the story to its head. I didn't realize until I got to this point that Hanzo was apparently _important_ to the way story's final act played out.
> 
> So, I'm throwing something together that makes sense, I think, but is going to come a bit out of left field. Sorry.
> 
> You can blame Hanzo.


	22. Almost Normal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I've been so busy lately, my head might explode. I'm so, so sorry this took so long to come out. :(
> 
> I got a job.  
> I'm trying to make time for gaming, both by myself and with friends.  
> I have yet to finish Andromeda, which I'd like to do.  
> I have a backlog of videos that need editing and posting.  
> I'm working on this, and an original story.  
> I've joined a D&D campaign, which starts soon (I think).
> 
> So yeah. Life is busy right now. Sorry.
> 
> Enjoy.

Fareeha didn't like the snow.

It was cold and wet and just gross, often getting into her boots and soaking her socks. She could probably use a better pair of snow boots, to be honest, but she didn't exactly care to go looking. She didn't really spend time outside when it snowed.

Except that now, Angela wanted to go for a walk.

The good doctor had recently released Ana and Jack from bed rest and was apparently feeling a bit cooped up inside her office. Jack had given her quite a run, from the sound of things; he hadn't enjoyed the bed rest in the slightest and gave Angela hell for it. Once they were out of the med bay, Angela invited Fareeha to go on a walk in the snow, and Fareeha accepted. What was she going to do, say no? The woman was the love of her life, offering to spend alone time with her.

Any fool would say yes.

So, she was taking a walk in knee deep snow, her feet freezing inside her crappy boots and wishing she were on a beach somewhere instead of inside this stupid Watchpoint in the middle of nowhere in Sweden. At this point, she would have much rather taken a drive into town to go see a movie. Anything but this ridiculous hike through the snow.

But Angela was happy, and that's what counted. She apparently enjoyed the snow and was admiring the view that stretched out before them in the courtyard; miles and miles of trees, and a river running between the mountains, all covered in white and looking like some kind of Christmas card.

"Are you all right, Fareeha?" Angela asked, gently touching a hand to Fareeha's shoulder and causing the other woman to shiver, "You seem...quiet."

Fareeha nodded, "Oh, I'm fine. Just cold."

Angela chuckled, "Well, one usually does get cold when it snows. I just think you've been quiet since Ana returned. You've barely spoken two words to me."

That was probably true. Fareeha had taken the time to visit her mother in the med bay, but had otherwise actively avoided a bunch of people since Ana's return two days prior; Reinhardt and Angela had been at the top of that list, since she felt she'd disappointed them most of all. Reinhardt, because he and Ana had been close before she died and he'd technically had every right to know she was coming back. Angela, because Fareeha usually told her everything and had kept this very large secret for several months. She figured both of them would be mad at her and wouldn't want to speak to her. Angela, at least, had proven that wrong by inviting her on this walk.

"I lied to you," Fareeha said with a small shrug.

Angela blinked, looking confused, "About what?"

"My mom."

Angela grinned sadly, shaking her head, "Fareeha, you had every right to keep your secret. Ana didn't want to be outed, she didn't want you to have to tell us. I don't blame you for not bringing it up to me." She gave Fareeha's shoulder a light squeeze, "You didn't lie. You stayed loyal to your mother. You never lied."

Fareeha gave a sad chuckle, "Reinhardt...was so angry at her."

"No. He's not." Angela said, her tone surprisingly curt, "You know him better than that, Fareeha. He was hurt, yes, but they've talked. They're repairing. He would never stay mad at her, you know that. He would never hate either you for any of this."

She did know that, of course, but it didn't keep her from putting a lot of the blame on herself. She should have said something months ago, when she'd confirmed that Ana was alive. It would have saved everyone a lot of trouble, and Ana would have eventually forgiven her for telling everyone. As it stood now, there was a bit of a somber air over the entire Watchpoint since Ana walked into that briefing room and let her survival be known. It was quiet; even the Junkers weren't making a lot of noise -- which surprised everyone -- keeping to themselves and rarely causing a scene.

Since Reinhardt had been spending a lot of his time with Ana over the last two days, Fareeha had taken up the mantle of Roadhog's training partner, and she was actually learning a lot. He wasn't afraid to hit, and she'd had to get used to that; but she'd also learned a few new moves that she would most likely use sometime if it came down to it. Plus, she was learning a lot about the big guy.

Like that he apparently liked cats as much as she did and had a fascination with the Pachimari plush figures that littered Hana's workspace.

Odd guy, that one.

Fareeha sighed, "I guess I just thought all of this would be different. More like the old days, you know? What I grew up with." She scratched at her nose with a little sniff. Holy crap, it was cold, "Instead, we're just hiding out and hoping no one finds us."

Angela nodded, "I understand that. But it was never going to be the same. It couldn't be." She gave a forlorn look out at the view spread before them, "And it's probably better that way, in all honesty."

"Is it?" Fareeha asked, turning now to face the other woman with a furrowed brow, "Have you seen the state of the world, Angie? We could be doing so much more."

"At the very real risk of getting caught and arrested and very possibly executed for treason."

"So then why are we here?" Fareeha asked, becoming aware of the fact that her voice was echoing off of the nearby buildings, "If we're not actually going to do anything, why did we come back at all?"

"We've done what we can, Fareeha," Angela said with a shrug, "And we will continue to do so. But we cannot be so bold as to presume that we can fix everything, especially with a gag order in place against us." Fareeha let out a little frustrated grunt and leaned on the railing in front of her. Angela placed a gentle hand on her back, "I'm sorry it's not what you expected, Fareeha."

Fareeha shook her head, "I don't know what I expected, honestly. I knew we couldn't do much. It's just frustrating knowing the only thing we've accomplished in nearly a year is essentially kidnapping a couple of Junkers and rescuing people who should be dead."

"The smaller recon missions Winston has sent out has gained us some information," Angela said, "You could ask him to let you lead the next one, if you're itching for something to do."

Fareeha snorted, "Yeah, maybe."

"All I know is, Fareeha, you need to relax. We're doing what we can, as quickly as we can. I promise."

Fareeha nodded, "I know."

And then, out of nowhere, a snowball plowed right into the side of her face, knocking her off balace a bit and making her splutter and cough.

That had actually hurt, surprisingly enough.

"Hey!" she yelped, holding a hand to her burning cheek.

Angela let out a small giggle, "I'm sorry, really. I just...I thought you needed some help loosening up and I...just threw it, I'm sorry." Her giggle devolved into a fit of hysterical laughter and for a brief moment, Fareeha wondered if the good doctor wasn't going insane.

"That hurt, you know," Fareeha said, her voice completely flat. This sent Angela into another fit of laughter, which got a bit of a giggle out of Fareeha.

Angie's laugh was just so great...

Couldn't hurt to have a bit of fun, right?

They'd been couped up inside the Watchpoint for a couple of days now, bored out of their minds and with nothing to do. There was snow, there was nothing else to do...a snowball fight could help alieviate some boredom, to be sure.

So she threw a snowball at the laughing Angela, hitting her square in the shoulder.

Angela blinked, looked at the snow plastered to her left arm and gazed at Fareeha with surprise, a small smirk on her lips.

Then, the two women took off in opposite directions, gathering up snow as ammo for their next barrage against one another.

It was cold and snow was already beginning to fall again, but Fareeha didn't care. The snowball fight went on for nearly twenty minutes, the two women laughing and hollering as they pelted each other with the fluffy white stuff and tried to hide behind things. Angela had, surprisingly enough, a pretty decent throwing arm; she hit nearly every single toss she sent Fareeha's way. Finally, the two women met in the middle of their battlefield, shoved snow into each others' faces, and fell over in a heap in the soft snow.

Fareeha chuckled as she hovered over Angela, pinning the other woman to the ground and shoving more snow into her face, "Gotcha!" Angela let out a yelp and threw snow back at Fareeha, and the two devolved into a giggle fit together on the ground.

The moment overtook Fareeha before she knew it, and she leaned down and planted a kiss directly onto Angela's lips.

It only lasted a second, but it felt so good...

And then reality came crashing back onto Fareeha and she realized what she was doing. She pushed herself off the doctor below her and got to her feet, muttering an apology as she tried to get snow dislodged from inside her coat.

"I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me," she said, desperately wishing she could just disappear into the ground and never have to be seen again.

"Why are you sorry?" Angela finally said.

Fareeha turned to face her, face flush from embarassment and the cold, "I shouldn't have done that..."

Angela got to her feet, slipping slightly on the snow as she did so, and shrugged, "Why not?"

Fareeha shrugged, "I don't know, I just...I was having so much fun with you here, and...it was just...I don't know..."

"Fareeha," Angela said, taking a step toward the other woman with a grin, "It's okay. Really."

"Angie..."

"You have to stop apologizing for every little thing," Angela said, breathless from their fight in the snow, "You haven't done anything wrong." She stepped toward Fareeha until the two were face to face, nearly touching noses, "Trust me. It's fine."

And this time, Angela initiated the kiss, wrapping her arms around Fareeha's neck and tugging her close into the embrace. Fareeha gently placed her hands on Angela's slim waist. She suddenly felt very warm, and it felt so good. Angela tasted like peppermint, which was a surprise, since she didn't usually smell that way. Oh, she certainly smelled divine, but never like peppermint. Maybe it was toothpaste...?

_What. The fuck. Ever._

_Just kiss her, idiot._

Fareeha wrapped her arms around Angela's waist and leaned into it. It didn't last very long, but everything, in that one moment, felt so good. When the kiss finally ended, Fareeha let it linger on her lips a few seconds more, her eyes closed as she tried to catch her breath.

"Took you long enough, by the way," Angela said with a soft chuckle.

In that one utterly breathless and beautiful moment, Fareeha no longer hated the snow.  
__________________________________________________________________________________

Reinhardt felt terrible for having blown Roadhog off the past two days. He'd wanted to speak to Ana, and he'd gotten that chance several times, but it came at the price of missing his training sessions with his new partner. Roadhog, of course, didn't seem to mind. It didn't keep Reinhardt from feeling bad, however.

But apparently, according to Junkrat, Roadhog had found a replacement he was actually enjoying in the form of Fareeha, which surprised him. Not only had he never expected those two to get along, but he also never expected Fareeha to hold up that well against Roadhog. Oh, she was certainly a strong woman, he wasn't denying her that. But Roadhog was...well, Roadhog. He was huge, and packed a powerful punch. Fareeha, while certainly a physical force to be reckoned with, was downright tiny compared to Roadhog; it was amazing she hadn't been crushed yet.

And apparently, both of them had actually enjoyed their sessions together.

Go figure.

Despite the fact that Ana was getting out of the med bay today, Reinhardt had promised Roadhog a training session, and he intended to keep that promise. So, he slogged his way through the snow (past Angela and Fareeha who were kissing, and didn't even seem to see him), and toward the training grounds. He was taken off guard when he walked by the shooting gallery and was nearly run over by someone he didn't recognize exiting the room and running smack into him. The man quickly apologized and took off, holding a bow in one hand. What an odd weapon choice...

Roadhog was at the other end of the training room, punching the ever loving hell out of one of the training dummies situated there. If it had been anyone else, Reinhardt would have assumed he was angry and trying to blow off steam, but this was Roadhog: he was always like this. What really surprised Reinhardt was the fact that they appeared to have an audience for this session. Junkrat, Torbjorn, and Mei all sat at one end of the room on a long bench. Junkrat was fidgiting as per usual, while Mei watched Roadhog with a look that crossed somewhere between awed and concerned, and Torbjorn just looked bored.

"What are you doing in here, Torby?" Reinhardt asked in his cheerful, booming tone.

Torbjorn let out an irritated sigh, "The doors to the workshops and labs were literally frozen shut. I told maintenance to fix the heating in there, but no."

"I offered to get 'em open, mate," Junkrat said with a shrug, clearly trying to mock Torbjorn's tone of voice, "But, no."

Torbjorn narrowed his one good eye at Junkrat, "You would have blown the doors off their hinges, boy."

"We'd've been inside, though, wouldn't we?"

"And still just as cold," Torbjorn muttered, sounding like he was now wishing he'd taken the Junker up on his offer.

Reinhardt chuckled, his gaze shifting to Mei, "What brings you here, Mei?" he asked, giving her a warm smile.

Mei returned the smile and shrugged, "I showed up at the lab building to find it frozen shut, so Junkrat invited me here with him and Torby. I had nothing else to do, so I decided to come along." She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, "You don't mind, do you?"

"Not at all!" Reinhardt boomed, throwing his arms out wide, "I enjoy a good audience!"

"Oh, well you have one!" Mei said excitedly.

"My money's on Roadie takin' a beatin'," Junkrat mumbled from his spot beside Mei, giving Roadhog one of his infuriating shit eating grins. Roadhog rolled his eyes but surprisingly said nothing.

"I don't know about that," Reinhardt said with a shrug, "Your friend is very, very good at what he does."

"That bein' beatin' the shit outta people?" Junkrat asked, quirking one of those bushy eyebrows.

Reinhardt nodded with a chuckle, "Ha, yes."

"You're pretty good yourself, Rein," Torbjorn piped up, giving Reinhardt an approving nod.

"Is this what Angela was talking about when she mentioned training?"

The voice threw them all off and everyone turned as one to face Ana, who had managed to enter the room without making a sound. She was looking at each of them with a small grin and raised her eyebrows when her gaze met Reinhardt's, "You're giving Angela a heart attack with all this training you're doing, Reinhardt. She says you're overworking yourself."

Reinhardt chuckled, "I told her not to worry. It gives us something to do!"

"How're you feeling, Ana?" Torbjorn piped up, pushing himself from his spot on the bench on Mei's other side and moving to stand next to Reinhardt, "Angie said she'd put you two on bedrest. That's the worst, isn't it?"

Ana shrugged, "I don't know. I rather liked the opportunity to rest, after everything. I haven't had the chance to do so in a while."

Roadhog, who had been completely silent up to this point, chose now to speak. He motioned to Ana with a small nod while looking at Reinhardt, "You two talk?"

Reinhardt nodded, "Yes, my friend. Thank you," he said with a small smile.

Ana raised her eyebrows, looking between Reinhardt and Roadhog with a small grin, "...Talk?"

"Yes. Roadhog, here, talked some sense into me and told me to come talk to you." Reinhardt gave Ana an affectionate smile, "I believe it worked out, in the long run."

Ana nodded, "It did, indeed." She looked at Roadhog and gave him a nod of approval, "Thank you...Roadhog."

Roadhog only grunted in response, rolling one shoulder in some kind of shrug, and turned away to continue his warm ups before the session. Ana turned her gaze back to Reinhardt and gave a small shrug, "Just be careful, yes?"

"Always, my dear," Reinhardt said in return.

Ana nodded and turned to leave when she was stopped by Torbjorn, "Ana, wait! I'm coming with you. I don't need to sit here and watch these two beat each other up."

Ana motioned Torbjorn over to her and the small man practically jogged her way. The two left the room together, leaving Reinhardt and Roadhog with their small audience. Reinhardt briefly wondered why Ana stopped by at all, but he couldn't say it had disappointed him; he enjoyed seeing her, and it was nice that she was up and about again. He couldn't wait to start seeing her beautiful face around the Watchpoint, instead of always having to track her down at the med bay.

"She's pretty," Roadhog grumbled.

Reinhardt grinned, "She is, isn't she?"

"We gonna do this, or no?"

Reinhardt let out a hearty laugh, "Of course, my friend! Let's go!"

As the two mountainous men prepared to fight each other, Junkrat leaned over to Mei and whispered, "I'm gonna put money on Reinhardt winnin' it. You in?"

Mei smirked, "You'd bet against your friend?"

Junkrat shrugged, "Eh, way I see it, he comes out of these things more often than not in a lot worse shape than your guy. May as well make some profit of watchin' Roadie get kicked around."

"All right," Me said with a shrug and a nod, "Sure. I'm in. I think Roadhog will win."

They shook on it, and the fight began.  
__________________________________________________________________________________

McCree usually chose a time to practice at the shooting range when no one else would be there; there were often scheduled training sessions, but he hated attending those. His aim was usually so good, he got bombarded with questions about how he pulled it off. And if he missed (which rarely happened), he got bombarded with questions about whether or not he was okay, since he didn't usually miss.

It was annoying.

He was still fuming at the idea that his old boss was part of Talon, and he hadn't really had the time to shoot off a little practice time, so he decided to go ahead and go in today, in the off hours.

So imagine his surprise when he arrived at the shooting gallery to see it was occupied.

Curiosity overtook him and he went inside anyway; he knew for a fact that there wasn't a session scheduled for another couple of hours, so he wanted to know who else besides him was taking advantage of the empty room. As he walked inside, he could see that someone had taken full advantage of the practice range, having activated the moving targets and obstacles. He stood at the edge of the yellow safety line painted on the floor and looked around; as far as he could tell, no one was there...

Then an arrow came from nowhere and pierced a target that had moved off to his left. McCree visibly jumped and shot a look in the direction the arrow had come from.

He'd heard Genji telling Winston that his brother would be staying for a while; McCree had yet to actually see this elusive Hanzo moving about the Watchpoint, but he could only assume this was him. The man was slightly shorter than Genji, but also more muscular, with a long tattoo that stretched its way down his left arm and shoulder. His dark hair was pulled to the back of his head with a long ribbon, and he was firing a bow of all things, moving in and out of the obsticles with the grace and ease of a dancer. He made it look easy; McCree wished he had that kind of mobility.

He stood there for what seemed like quite a while before Hanzo noticed he had an audience and made his way out of the obsticles to stand on the opposite end of the room. "I was told I would not be bothered here," he said, his voice gruff and heavily accented. What Genji had failed to mention about Hanzo was just how good looking the man was, really. All piercing eyes and glistening skin...

McCree let out a chuckle, "Heh, sorry. I'm usually the only one who comes here."

Hanzo looked McCree up and down, narrowing his eyes, "Who are you?"

"Jesse McCree," McCree said with a shrug, "Friend of Genji."

"Ah. I've heard of you."

Had he? Interesting that Genji would mention him at all, honestly. "You're pretty good with that bow."

Hanzo glanced down at the bow in his hand and took a deep breath, rolling his head from side to side, "Thank you."

"Kinda old fashioned though, dontcha think?"

Hanzo's brow furrowed, "My bow is old fashioned, says the man dressed out of a Western movie."

McCree snorted, "Well, ya got me there."

There was a moment of silence where the two just stared at one another. Finally, Hanzo broke both the silence and the eye contact, "I was in the middle of something, you know."

McCree raised his eyebrows, looking Hanzo up and down, "Ya were? Couldn't tell. Am I botherin' ya?"

"Yes."

"Don't mean to."

Hanzo huffed and shook his head, "I can go, if you would prefer."

That surprised McCree. He'd expected a bit more resistance out of the guy, based on everything Genji had said about him. Hanzo didn't strike McCree as the type who simply gave in to demands. McCree shrugged, "You don't have to. Plenty of room for two of us. 'Sides, I'd like to see you shoot."

"You have," Hanzo said, lifting his chin, "You watched for a while."

"I did, true."

Hanzo looked McCree up and down, then his face visibly relaxed and he took a deep breath, "I'll take my leave. I have been here long enough. Enjoy your practice session." He walked toward McCree, pushed past him, and left without a word. McCree got a whiff of sawdust and cologne; the guy smelled good.

First Genji, now Hanzo.

Those Shimada boys sure did have a way of rustling his feathers.


	23. Crumbling Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm about to head off to work, but I wanted to get this chapter up before I headed out. Enjoy!

The monitor lit up with Angela's message just as Winston's stomach growled in irritation: "Please don't forget to eat!"

Sometimes he wondered if she wasn't psychic.

As it stood, Winston had other things on his mind other than food. Yes, he was hungry, but he was also searching for answers. Overwatch were now actively hunting for Talon's whereabouts in an effort to keep them at bay, and now that it was known that Vishkar was somehow involved with the terrorists, Winston's exact job was to find out why the mega-corp had chosen Talon as an ally. There were also reports coming in from Russia about the second Omnic Crisis forming up there, and increasing turmoil in parts of Sydney and London. There was also news coming in from Numbani about some kind of attack at the airport there, headed by none other than Doomfist himself.

Basically, Winston was swamped.

So he wasn't exactly in the best of moods when Jack Morrison walked through his office door without so much as a courtesy knock. The former Commander offered Winston a small, half hearted smile and took a seat without being prompted to. Winston blinked and looked Jack over; he looked well, for someone who'd been captured for two days straight with little food or water.

He looked well for being dead.

His facial scars had come as a bit of a shock for those who'd seen him during the rescue mission. Not quite as much as Ana's missing eye, but it had still been odd to see their old Commander scarred to such a degree. Both of them looked the worse for wear, and it wasn't only because of Fuse and her gang; it was clear they were tired, having traveled together for so long, and Winston felt the ordered bed rest had been good for them. Still, Jack looked tired, worn down...sad.

But he was alive.

Winston had held a very deep respect for both Ana and Jack for many years. He mourned them both, he'd watched his friends mourn them, and he did his best to move on. It hadn't been easy, but he'd done it. After all those months of mourning, of spending days wishing they could return and nights praying everything would go back to the way it was, they were suddenly here, standing in front of Overwatch. It was almost too much to comprehend.

Winston had always felt like a bit of an outsider, even in Overwatch's halls. Everyone here had done their best to make sure he felt he belonged, but how much could be done for a genetically enhanced gorilla living among humans? Ana had accepted him as he was, and Jack had allowed him to stay; he owed them a lot, and knew this.

So, he swallowed his irritation before he spoke to Jack. The man had once run Overwatch, and Winston was filling some big shoes here. Jack had to know that Winston was trying his best, right? And why did it matter so much that Jack approve of the way he'd been running things? It wasn't like he was still the Commander, right? It wasn't like he was going to demand Winston step down and hand the position over...

"Hey," Winston said in a conversational tone, adjusting his glasses on his nose and offering Jack a smile, "What can I do for you?"

Jack shrugged, "Just looking around, trying to feel out how Overwatch is doing now."

"And?"

Jack gave Winston an approving nod, "You're doing well, Winston. Taking this place and making it fuctional again? It couldn't have been easy."

Winston shrugged, "Well, I had help, obviously. I wasn't the only one here. Torbjorn is reworking the security features, and --"

"But you're leading the charge," Jack interrupted, holding a hand up to stop Winston mid sentence. "You're giving the orders, you're making sure it works. This? This is all you."

Winston swallowed, giving a slow nod, "I suppose so. Yes."

"Yes. You need to accept that you're the leader now, Winston. Everyone here is looking to you for guidance. It's a team effort, sure, but ultimately you're the one they're going to rely on." Jack shrugged, lacing his fingers together in front of him on his lap, "I'm proud of you, Winston."

Winston practically beamed, "Thank you, sir!"

Jack nodded, his smile fading a bit. He broke eye contact with Winston, licking his lips, "I wanted to talk to you about this situation with the Junkers, though."

Winston's mind immediately went to Fuse and her gang. And why not, right? It made sense that Jack would be talking about the people who'd held him captive for two days. He nodded and gave a little shrug, "Tracer suggested we try to find them and bring them in, or turn them into the authorities. I'm not even sure how we'd find them to be honest..."

"What? No," Jack said, shaking his head with a mildly confused look on his face, "I'm talking about Junkrat and Roadhog."

"Oh," Winston said, his brow furrowing in confusion, "Uh, what about them?"

"Why are they here?" Jack asked, "Why aren't they locked up? Why haven't they been turned in to the proper authorities?"

Winston blinked, giving Jack a sidelong glance, "What...are you talking about, sir?"

Jack pushed himself out of the chair and began pacing the room. For some odd reason, this set Winston on edge. Jack swallowed, turning to face Winston, and finally spoke, "Did you get what you needed from them?"

Winston shrugged, "Well, no. We're letting them come to us."

Jack snorted, "Why? What makes you think they'll do anything to help you?"

"Sir, Junkrat came to us. He needs us, and we need his information. It doesn't make any sense for us to --"

"What doesn't make any sense, Winston, is that you're allowing criminals free run of the place," Jack said, pointing a finger toward the office door as if that encompassed the whole Watchpoint, "You've given them accomodations they don't deserve, and now that they have what they want from you, they're not going to give you what you want. Please, Winston, you have to know that."

Winston shook his head, suddenly sounding uncertain and incredibly irritated with himself over this fact. "I don't, sir. He's...they're...they're fine, they're..."

"They're _happy_." Jack said, sighing, "You've given them exactly what they wanted: a free ride and a comfortable place to stay. And the only thing you've gotten in return is two new mouths to feed." He scoffed, "More than that, judging on the size of the big one alone."

Winston's eyes narrowed, "Jack, that's not fair."

"How do you know they haven't just given your location away to every criminal in the underground? How do you know they're not stealing from us, taking things and selling them? They have access to military grade weapons and --"

Winston got to his feet, pointing at Jack, "They do not. I made sure they didn't have access to any weapons."

"One of them is in Torbjorn's workshop on a daily basis, from what I've heard," Jack said, "That entire _place_ is made of weapons, Winston."

"He's never there without Torbjorn. It was worked out, Junkrat is never there alone."

Jack shrugged, "And if Torbjorn wants to get himself blown up by criminals, that's his prerogative, but I'd prefer he didn't take the entire Watchpoint down with him."

"Sir, that's hardly fair," Winston shook his head, "You don't know the whole story."

"The story I know is that they came to you offering information. They put you and your men in danger when Talon got involved. They withheld the information they'd promised you. One of them destroyed a cell door and escaped, and instead of locking him back up, you decide to give him free reign of the place, and for what?" Jack spread his arms wide, an irritated glare on his face, "You were hoping to gain his trust so he'd tell you what he knows?" Winston winced at this statement, because it was completely accurate, making Jack sigh. He rolled his eyes, "That is an incredibly naive way to go about this, Winston. You don't know anything about those men. They could be taking advantage of you. They could be lying to you; they might not have any information at all. What if they're lying, Winston?"

Winston swallowed, suddenly unable to make eye contact with Jack, "Sir...I just don't think that's the case."

"Why? Because you _like_ them? Winston, you can grow to like anyone when you're forced to live with them for months on end."

"I trust them."

"What reason have they ever given you for that?"

Winston shrugged, glancing around the room as if the furniture could provide him with answers, "I don't know, okay? I just know that I do. I like them, and I trust them, and I think they deserve to be here."

"And have they given you the information they promised you?"

"No."

Jack shrugged, "Then I don't trust them. And I don't think you should either."

Winston shook his head, "I'm sorry, but...that's not your choice to make. It's mine."

Jack nodded, "Yeah, you're right. Can you let me do something for you, though?"

"What?"

"Can you let me talk to Junkrat?"

Winston narrowed his eyes, giving Jack a sidelong glance, "What for?"

"I want to get the information out of him. I won't hurt him, but since he doesn't know me, he won't know that. Let me get in there, question him, get the information. No one here has to get their hands dirty."

Winston sighed, "We tried that already, sir, he held out."

Jack shrugged, "Well, I'm willing to try again."

Winston bit at his lip, thinking. If Jack could get whatever information Junkrat had, it would help Overwatch in the long run. Junkrat didn't know Jack, and he wouldn't have to know Winston had sent him...

The fact remained that Junkrat wasn't dumb. He _would_ find out, sooner or later, that Winston had allowed the interrogation. And if Jack caught Junkrat with Roadhog, there was every chance Roadhog wouldn't take the line of questioning well and try to hurt Jack. The two didn't have any reason to trust the old Commander, not like Winston did. They would see him coming and immediately think him a threat. Junkrat would clam up again, Roadhog would get angry, and months worth of gaining trust and friendship would go out the window.

It wouldn't work.

"Winston?" Jack asked, breaking the scientist from his train of thought, "Let me try this. Please."

Winston shook his head, "It won't work. I'm telling you, he won't say anything."

Jack's eyes narrowed and he let out a barely audible growl, "Then _why are they here_? Hmm? Why are you keeping them around? I don't get it, Winston. I don't understand. Help me understand."

"I don't know, honestly," Winston said with a shrug, "I really don't know, okay, I just....I feel like we need to protect them."

Jack shook his head, "It's not up to you to protect every vagrant with a death wish. It's dangerous for you, and for Overwatch as a whole, to bring people like him in here when he's not willing to play nice." He sighed, "I'm willing to talk to him for you. If he doesn't give me the information....Winston, you have to consider getting him out of here."

Winston chewed his lip again. This entire situation was making him uncomfortable, but some part of him knew that Jack was right. Somewhere along the line, he'd lost track of why the Junkers were here to begin with. They'd promised information and they hadn't given it. Junkrat was actively being hunted by Talon, who were also apparently in league with Vishkar, and now their location was more than likely compromised with the return of Ana and Jack. Overwatch already had to deal with Talon as a credible threat; keeping Junkrat here while Talon was after him was only going to add to that problem. It was one more reason Talon had to find them, and that...was a problem.

It went against his better judgement, but he wanted to do what was right for Overwatch.

So, Winston gave Jack the permission he needed to question Junkrat.  
__________________________________________________________________________________

If it hadn't been for Mei's incredible patience, Junkrat may never have gotten back to his quarters through the snow. He had mild trouble keeping his balance anyway, with the peg leg, but in the slick environment of a snow covered Watchpoint, walking became nearly impossible for him; he couldn't feel the snow with his bad leg enough to get his balance. Mei had kindly offered him a shoulder to lean on while they walked through the courtyard after Reinhardt and Roadhog's practice session (which Roadhog had won, much to Mei's delight). Torbjorn had offered him help before that on the way to the training grounds, which made for an awkward walk since Junkrat was so much taller than the tiny engineer.

He knew he'd probably never get used to the unwavering kindness offered by these people who had taken him in. It didn't make sense that they would just help him out of the goodness of their hearts and expect nothing in return. It went against everything he'd learned in the Outback, where everyone was out for themselves and trust was a thin string that could easily be broken. Junkrat trusted Roadhog, to a certain extent, but only because he'd offered the large man a huge sum of money to keep him safe, otherwise he had no problem believing Roadhog would have killed him a long time ago. But these people at Overwatch were kind, and they apparently didn't expect anything in return. Hell, they hadn't even asked for information about his treasure since his first night here; it was like they'd forgotten about it completely.

He figured he should probably bring it up again at some point....

But if they weren't going to push the topic, then he wasn't about to out himself without need.

Sure, one could argue that the "right" thing to do would be to give one of these people the information he'd promised them, but Junkrat wasn't fully inclined to do the "right" thing just yet. Some small part of him still believed that they were only being nice to him to get that information, even as a larger part of him argued that probably wasn't true. He knew they were just good people. But old habits died hard.

Mei went so far as to walk him back to his room once they were inside, which was nice. She said it was to keep him company, and even made the offer to teach him chess in the rec room if he got bored. "Just don't blow anything up, okay?" was her response when he refused her offer. She gave him a kind smile and walked away.

God, that smile was beautiful.

Yep, Junkrat had a crush all right. Mei was pretty, smart, and took no shit. Specifically, she didn't take his shit. It was hard to find someone who would call him out; Roadhog said mean things in response to Junkrat's ever running mouth, but rarely did the big guy actually call him out. Mei, on the other hand, would remind Junkrat that he was being rude. That disapproving glare behind those adorable glasses told him she was serious and he loved it. He loved fucking with her, too; occasionally she'd smack his shoulder and call him mean. She never took direct offense to his comments, and she always had a snarky comeback whenever he said something sarcastic.

She was one of the people here he actually liked.

She was one of the people Junkrat had considered talking to. McCree, Reinhardt, and Torbjorn were others. But he'd decided he wouldn't say anything unless they asked. It was the same reason he'd never given Roadhog any direct information about the treasure either; Roadhog had asked once, and let the subject drop. If they weren't going to bring it up again, why should he?

There was a new feeling here, though. He felt... _bad_. He'd come here under the pretense that he'd give them information about something powerful he'd found in the Omnium in the Outback, and he wasn't giving them that information. He was putting them in danger, in all honesty, and it kinda felt terrible. Roadhog could take care of himself and Junkrat both, with no problem; when that became impossible, Roadhog had made Junkrat contact Overwatch for help. Talon was dangerous. Junkrat knew that. And now Roadhog and Overwatch were protecting him over something he hadn't even directly promised them. It did feel a bit bad to be stringing them along like this...

What the hell was this? He hated this. Guilt? Is that what it was called?

Fuck guilt. Fuck it.

When he opened the door to his room, he'd expected another being inside in the form of Roadhog. The big guy had said he might accompany Reinhardt to the med bay, but that he might just as well go back to bed; Roadhog sure did like to sleep, once a comfortable bed was there to welcome him. What Junkrat did not expect, however, was another being in his room in the form of someone he'd never met before.

The man was somewhat tall, muscular, with a shock of grey hair. He was wearing some kind of biker jacket with the number 76 emblazoned in huge numbers on the back, and he was searching through the room casually.

"Oi!" Junkrat yelped, upon seeing the man, "What the hell, mate? What you think you're doin'?"

The man turned his head slightly to look at Junkrat, revealing a creepy mask that covered his face; it occurred to Junkrat in that moment that he knew far too many people who decided masks were a cool fashion accessory. He might need to reassess the people he associated with.

"You Junkrat?" the man asked, turning to face him fully. His voice was a low, gravelly grumble. Not quite as menacing as Roadhog's voice, but pretty damn close.

Junkrat shrugged, trying not to look uncomfortable; the door to the room had closed behind him, but he could make a run for it if this guy turned out to be less than savory for his liking. "Who's askin', mate?"

The man shrugged, "I'm an old friend of Overwatch. They say you're okay. I don't think you are."

"The fuck does that mean, mate?" Junkrat asked, his eyes narrowing.

"You promised them something when you came here," the intruder said, moving closer to Junkrat, "You haven't delivered."

Junkrat scoffed, shifting a bit; he didn't want to be any closer to this wacko than he had to be. "What are you talkin' about?"

"Information," the intruder stated as he moved around the bed to get closer to Junkrat, "You have it. They want it."

Junkrat shrugged, "They haven't asked, mate."

"They did ask, from what I heard. You didn't answer."

"They never asked _again_."

The man scoffed, shaking his head as Junkrat shifted away again, "That's pathetic, you know that? You're pathetic. These people are helping you, out of the goodness of their hearts, and you're taking advantage of them. I want it to end."

He moved closer again, and Junkrat backed up, only now realizing that the intruder had successfully placed himself in front of the door. Dammit. He should have just opened the door and gone into the hallway, where anyone could stumble upon this...whatever the fuck this was. Instead, he'd circled around to the bed and had cornered himself. _Good on ya, mate, you idiot_.

"You gotta problem with the way they've been treatin' me, mate? Go talk to them. The monkey, he's the one in charge, I think. Speak up to 'im. Ask him why I haven't been questioned again, yeah?"

The man nodded, "I did. He didn't have an answer for me."

Junkrat blinked and gave the man in his room a sidelong glare. He'd visited Winston about this? Had Winston told him to come here? No, surely not. There was no way in hell the monkey knew about this creepy guy breaking into people's rooms and interrogating them. He wouldn't allow it.

....Would he?

The very small part of Junkrat that believed everyone here was out for something, was only being nice to get the info he had to offer, took over. Suddenly, it all made sense in his addled mind why everyone was being so nice. Everyone was out for something, right? His "friends" had all been out for something. There were always strings attached. Always.

Right?

No, they'd told him, they'd promised him...Torbjorn had called him his friend...McCree...Reinhardt....

Mei...

They'd said they were his friends. Had they lied? They could have lied. They might have lied. If Winston had sent this random guy to Junkrat's room to question him, maybe they had lied. Maybe they were fed up with him, maybe they didn't want him around anymore. Maybe this was their way of asking for the information again: send in a creepy, crazy guy and pretend they had nothing to do with it. It was very.... _Junker_ of them, if that was the case. Underhanded...mean...

Normal.

Everyone was out for something. Everyone.

All they wanted was the fucking treasure.

He'd had a feeling it all had to come crumbling down soon. Everything was going too well here. Everyone was being too nice, too accomodating, too accepting. He'd played video games with that Hana chick and Lucio. He'd built things with Torbjorn. He'd been getting along with Mei, and McCree, and all of them. No one ever got along with him, he should have known. He should have known they'd turn on him sooner or later. He hadn't promised them a cut of the treasure the way he'd promised Roadhog. They were tired of being strung along -- of stringing him along -- and they'd finally given in to their desires to fuck him over.

God. Damn. It.

He _knew_ trusting them had been a terrible idea.

"I'm not tellin' you anything," Junkrat said, his voice barely above a whisper. Despite his best efforts to tell himself that he'd seen this coming, he couldn't stop his voice from cracking. He wasn't sure why, but he'd expected more from Overwatch. He'd expected them to be genuine.

He'd been wrong.

The intruder shrugged, "Yeah, I figured as much. You're either lying, or you're playing them, maybe both."

Junkrat shrugged in return, "Yeah. Maybe."

"You've put them in danger, kid. I saw what happened in Sydney, they could have _died_ protecting your worthless hide. They deserve more than you've given them."

Now Junkrat was at odds with himself. _If_ they'd been telling the truth and they genuinely liked having him around, then this intruder was right. By keeping his secret, he'd put them in danger. They could have died, it was true. His first night here, McCree had said exactly that, and Junkrat had countered it with "well, no one did, so it doesn't matter."

Except it _did_ matter. Despite the fact that he felt betrayed, Junkrat did genuinely like these people. He'd put them in danger with every action he'd taken up until the point they'd found him. Fuse had been an unforeseeable problem he hadn't expected, but he could have at least mentioned Talon...

If he'd been wrong about him and they didn't trust him like they claimed they did, then they'd sent this guy to get the information and get rid of him.

If they _did_ trust him like they claimed they did...he was putting them in danger.

And he couldn't say anything, because...well...there was nothing to say.

"I'll go," Junkrat whispered, staring at the floor as he hugged himself. He swallowed hard, trying not to cry, "I'll fucking go, just leave me alone."

"That's not what I wanted."

"I don't care, mate." Junkrat said with a shrug, "I'm not giving you anything, and I can't stay here. We're at a stalemate. I'll go."

The intruder nodded slowly and opened the door, "Okay. You're more than welcome to do that." He shook his head, "I believe they want you here, kid. I think you're doing the right thing by leaving, but I truly do believe they want you here."

Junkrat nodded and rolled one shoulder, "Ah, well. Couldn't last forever, right?"

The man hesitated as he stepped out the door, just staring at Junkrat with his head cocked to one side. Beneath the mask was an expression Junkrat couldn't see: regret. Jack hadn't wanted this. He'd broken the kid's heart, he could see that. But it was best for everyone. If Junkrat wasn't going to give information, or if he didn't have information to give, then his leaving was the best outcome for everyone involved.

Junkrat saw that. Winston and the others would have to see it, too.

Without a word, he left the room, leaving an unusually silent Junkrat behind.


	24. Like a Cockroach

It was cold.

Before, whenever they'd had to go outside for whatever reason, they always had the assurance of the nice, warm indoors close by. Now, that wasn't the deal. Now, they were practically hiking down a fucking mountain in the snow in Junkrat's mad dash to suddenly try to get away from Overwatch. They'd left through some side door that probably should have been secured better and had been on the move for nearly four hours now, with no end in sight. Junkrat was shivering; his warmest clothes weren't warm enough apparently. He was also having an incredibly hard time just balancing on the icy pathway. Roadhog had already had to haul the kid off his ass several times after he'd fallen.

And he wasn't giving answers.

Roadhog wasn't normally one to push people for information, but goddamn if he wasn't curious on this one. What had suddenly gotten into Junkrat that he actually wanted to hike through several feet of snow to get away from people who were -- and Roadhog generally hated this word, but oh well -- their _friends_. He was coming dangerously close to trying to talk to this kid.

Fuck that.

Finally, after hours of walking, Junkrat just kind of slumped backward into a tree, panting. Roadhog, who wasn't exactly an Olympic athlete, was grateful for this. Not only would it give him time to catch his breath (maybe take a drag of Hogdrogyn), it would also give him a chance to talk to Junkrat.

Time to follow the advice he gave to Reinhardt a couple of days ago.

Just. Fucking. Talk.

Fact of the matter was, Roadhog did like this kid. As irritating as Junkrat could be, he also had a way of growing on people. Like a weed, but still. Roadhog wanted to know what was happening. This whole ordeal had come out of nowhere, the absolute need to leave _right then_ being the only thing on Junkrat's mind. He was usually so scatterbrained that he rarely focused on one thing for so long. This, he'd remained focused on for the last several hours, and he hadn't changed his mind yet, even through the fucking cold.

Christ above, it was cold.

They'd stopped, at least, and Roadhog had managed to regain his breath, so he was going to talk to the kid. He was worried, despite himself, and he needed to know what was happening. They were going to die out here, frozen to death, if they didn't head for shelter soon. They couldn't just...keep walking.

Roadhog had to have answers.

"Okay," he muttered, irritated at how out of breath he still sounded, "What's goin' on, kid?"

"Whadaya mean, mate?" Junkrat asked, his voice wavering through his shivering. His nose was a deep shade of red and his lips looked chapped. They'd have to find some kind of cover soon if Roadhog had any hope of keeping Junkrat from dying of hypothermia.

"Why are we out here?" Roadhog asked as he plopped his massive form down onto a boulder and drew his heavy coat around himself. Requisitions back at Overwatch had failed to find a coat in his size, so he'd borrowed one from Reinhardt weeks ago. It didn't fit properly, by any means, but it was warm at least. And it had a hood, which was more than could be said for Junkrat's crappy jacket.

"I told ya, mate, we're leavin'," Junkrat said with a shrug, "Don't need to be there no more. That's it."

"Why?"

Junkrat scoffed, his eyes narrowing Roadhog's direction, "Since when do you ask questions, Roadie?"

Roadhog shrugged, "Since you drag my fat ass out here into the middle of bum fuckin' nowhere in the middle of a goddamn blizzard, when we had it good back at Overwatch."

Junkrat chuckled, "It's not a blizzard, mate, it's not even snowin'!"

"Shut up. Answer my question."

"Well, what do you want me to do, mate? Shut up, or talk? Cause I can't do both."

Right now, it was taking every ounce of self control Roadhog had not to wallop the kid across the mouth. "Answer. The fucking. Question."

"You didn't have to come with me."

Roadhog snorted, "I sure as shit did. You die, I don't get paid."

Junkrat opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to think twice about it and closed his mouth again, looking away from Roadhog and drawing his coat around him. He hugged himself and shivered as the two sat there in silence for a few moments. The only sounds were those of the forest around them and Roadhog's deep, guttural breathing.

"They don't want me there, mate," Junkrat muttered, suddenly looking sad.

"What are you talking about, kid?" Roadhog asked.

Junkrat shrugged, "They just...don't. They don't want me around, they don't trust me."

"Since when does that bother you?"

"It doesn't," Junkrat snapped, "I'm just tired of bein' there, is all. I wanna go back to Australia. Back to Junkertown."

"Back where Talon can get their hands on you?" Roadhog asked as he swallowed. What had happened back at Overwatch to make Junkrat act like this?

Junkrat shook his head, "Look mate, they're probably not even after me anymore. They probably figure I'm dead...or somethin'. Or, they'll think I'm still with Overwatch and won't even come lookin', ya know? It'll be fine." He made a valiant effort to give Roadhog one of his manic grins, but it was half hearted and just looked sad, "We'll be fine, mate."

His voice cracked as he spoke those last words and he looked away, embarrassed.

"Junkrat..." Roadhog began, then the sound of a twig snapping off to his right made him pause. He'd been hearing noises like that for hours as they made their way down the mountain, but he'd convinced himself it was animals or something, scrounging in the snow for food. This time, though, it gave him a bad feeling. There was a deliberate movement to the sound, as though whatever had made it was hunting.

Maybe hunting them.

Junkrat picked up on Roadhog's sudden silence and looked up at his bodyguard with concern. Roadhog had gotten to his feet and was moving in the direction of the sound, gun drawn and ready to go. "Roadie...?" Junkrat whispered, "What's wrong?"

Well. He'd finally learned to be quiet when they were in danger. Go figure that one.

Roadhog didn't answer right away, choosing instead to continue to investigate the sound he'd heard. He held a hand up toward Junkrat to demand that the kid wait a second while he looked.

There was nothing.

That was odd. Usually his instincts were spot on. Usually, when he felt like there was trouble around, _there was trouble_. Christ, had Overwatch softened him, or was he just getting old? He let out a confused grunt and turned back to face Junkrat with a shrug. "I dunno. It's nothin' I guess."

"Roadie!" Junkrat yelped, making a mad dash to stand upright.

Roadhog turned around just in time to meet the butt end of a gun with his face. The mask absorbed most of the blow, but it was hard enough to knock him backward; he slipped in the snow and fell forward onto his hands and knees awkwardly. A dozen more people popped out from the bushes and pounced on the large man, punching and kicking him repeatedly. He threw a few good hits of his own, knocking one or two of them out as he fought to get back to his feet. The ground wasn't a good place to be. He would lose on the ground. It didn't matter how well he fought, if he couldn't get off the ground, he _would_ be overtaken.

He had to get off the ground.

A short wisp of a woman clocked him in the back of the head and a screaming Junkrat came from nowhere to body-slam her into the ground. Junkrat wasn't strong, but he was still much bigger than the woman and she folded like a cheap suit, hitting the ground in a clump. Junkrat then proceeded to kick and punch whichever of the men on top of Roadhog he could reach. Eventually, a few of them left Roadhog to grab Junkrat.

_That_ made Roadhog angry.

Anyone could say anything they wanted about Roadhog, that he was a brute, a bully, a murderer, whatever. They could say he was a slob, or disgusting, deplorable. But there was one thing no one could call Roadhog, and that was disloyal.

Even if he didn't like Junkrat, he'd still promised the kid he'd protect him. So that's what he intended to do. He'd made a living for many, many years protecting people. Junkrat had been his longest client, the only person to live this long. It hadn't always been because of Roadhog's protection either; in a lot of cases, Junkrat got himself out of trouble just by being Junkrat. Junkrat and Roadhog were a _team_ , in it for the long haul. Roadhog saw the kid as a friend, and watching those men pounce on him made him angry.

And anger was what he needed to get to his feet.

He let out a yell that made the six men pounding on him hesitate for just a moment, which was all he needed to get his footing. He stood, drawing all seven foot three inches of his bulk up to tower over the people who had jumped him. Roadhog was a large man, he always had been. It was what made him scary. The men who had thought to attack him recognized this, and Roadhog relished the idea that at least one of them had probably crapped his pants just now. He grabbed hold of the hook at his back, swung around, and pinned one of the men closest to him to a tree with said hook. He sent a kick into the chest of another who tried to rescue his friend; the man crumpled to the ground and didn't get back up.

Junkrat, to his credit, wasn't about to go down without a fight. The kid wasn't much of a scrapper, but he was holding his own fairly well for someone with no formal training of any kind. He bit, kicked, scratched...at one point, he had even used his peg leg to break a man's ribs. All things considered, Roadhog was impressed.

One of the attackers, a large woman with a long pointed nose, drew a huge knife from her belt and swung it at Roadhog. Roadhog turned and threw the man he'd pinned to the tree into his female companion, sending the man into the blade of the knife as they both fell to the ground. The woman got to her feet, drew her knife out of her companion's back, and licked the blood off the blade with a psychotic grin.

Beneath the mask, Roadhog grimaced.

Ew.

An explosion to his left signaled that Junkrat had just fired off his grenade launcher. Someone let out a pained groan, but it didn't sound like Junkrat, so Roadhog didn't even bother to look. As long as Junkrat was still giggling and yelling out curses, Roadhog wasn't going to worry. He'd try to take on as many of these guys as he could, and Junkrat could provide backup in the form of grenades. The group had apparently decided beating the shit out of Junkrat wasn't a viable option since he was armed with live explosives, so they just surrounded the two men, weapons drawn.

It was then that Roadhog got a good look at their faces.

They were Junkers. The dozen surrounding them were joined by about seven more, all slinking out from the shadows the trees provided. Roadhog recognized a few of them, and his jaw dropped.

Fucking Fuse? Here? _Really_?

That woman was like a goddamned cockroach. Everything he'd heard about the rescue in Australia, he'd assumed Fuse had slinked back to Junkertown to lick her wounds and regroup. It hadn't occured to him that she'd find some way to come to Sweden. How the hell had she found them? How did she even know they were here?

Fuse, meanwhile, came strutting out of the woods like some fucking princess, her men parting the way for her so she could get a good look at Junkrat and Roadhog. Roadhog had received a gash on one arm and a lump on the back of the head, not to mention the bruises under his clothing he'd sustained from being beaten. Junkrat was panting and his jacket had been ripped. His nose was bleeding, but that seemed about the extent of his injuries. He'd managed to put up enough of a fight that the bastards hadn't landed a decent blow on him.

Hmm. Good for him.

"You motherfuckers are tough to find!" Fuse said loudly, clapping her mittened hands together in front of her. She was wearing a large winter coat and a pair of thick sweat pants, both dirty and ripped. She looked cold, really. Roadhog was the only one standing in this group who'd had access to a decent coat, judging by the looks of things. It paid to make friends who were your own size.

"The fuck, Fuse?" Junkrat yelped, " _How_?"

Fuse shrugged, "Friends in high places, mate."

"I'll kill you," Roadhog muttered, "Walk. Away."

"I'm inclined to believe you, big guy," Fuse said, "I don't doubt that for a second." She looked around to the two men he'd already felled, the woman Junkrat had body-slammed, the one he'd blown up, and the man who's ribs had seen the pointy end of Junkrat's leg; that last one was still alive, but was not in good condition. Fuse chuckled, "Wow. You really did a number, you big idiot. You know how many men I've lost? I hate to lose more."

Roadhog shrugged, "Those three over there were him." He motioned over his shoulder to Junkrat, who just gave Fuse a big, shit eating grin.

Fuse rolled her eyes, "Okay, boys, I'm just gonna cut straight to the point, yeah? I cut a deal with an old friend of mine who got me access to top of the line weapons. She said that all I had to do, was bring her Junkrat." She grinned, "She didn't specify what condition he had to be in, though, so I reckon I'm gonna have a bit of fun."

Roadhog huffed, "Right. Try it."

"Oh, I will," Fuse said, that grin still plastered on his face, "She won't be here for another couple of days. Gotta get shit worked out with her contacts, I guess, I dunno." Her gaze shifted back to Junkrat, "That gives us plenty of time to get what I need from the rat."

Roadhog could hear Junkrat shifting behind him, probably looking for more grenades to stuff into that launcher. He was was worried Junkrat had left them behind at the Watchpoint; the dumb kid had been in such a hurry to get out of there that Roadhog wasn't entirely sure he'd grabbed everything...

Sure enough, judging by the frustrated sounds coming from behind him, it seemed Junkrat hadn't grabbed any actual fucking ammo for the goddamn gun. Grand.

He'd only used one grenade to get the goons to back off him, so by Roadhog's count that left four in the gun. That was only if the gun had even been fully loaded when Junkrat had hastily broken into the weapons locker to grab it. This whole mad escape from Overwatch had left them with no way to fucking defend themselves. Well, that was just perfect. Abso-fucking-lutely WONDERFUL.

Roadhog's own scrap gun was fully loaded, but there were a good twenty or so people surrounding them. Maybe less, but not by much. He could take two or three out from close range, but that would leave the others to pounce him once he was out of ammo. The bag he kept his ammo in was lying on the ground, behind the people who currently had him surrounded. He had his hook, but that would only do so much damage.

If these people could organize themselves quickly enough, he'd go down fairly quickly.

Oh, he wasn't going to go down without a fight, and he'd sure as hell take as many of them with him as he could, but he also didn't want to leave Junkrat alone with the survivors. The kid was dumb enough not to run when Roadhog inevitably lost the fight; he'd stay and try to "help," get himself captured in the process.

They should have just stayed at the fucking Watchpoint.

Roadhog was going to _kill_ whoever had told Junkrat to leave.

Fuse let out a chuckle and shook her head, "The best part is, you two think there's still a fighting chance." She shrugged, drawing a weapon from the holster at her side under her jacket. It was unlike any gun Roadhog had ever seen before, small but bulky. Quite frankly, it looked really out of place in Fuse's hands, and she looked uncomfortable carrying it, like she was going to drop it at any moment.

Maybe he could knock it out of her hands...that could work...

She smirked and aimed the gun at Roadhog. He tried to duck to one side as she pulled the trigger, prepared himself to take a bullet to the shoulder or the arm rather than the face or chest. It would still hurt, maybe even incapacitate him, but with any luck it wouldn't kill him. Not right away. He could still fight. He shot just as she did. He missed and hit the guy standing beside her, who collapsed to the ground clutching his bleeding leg.

What shot out of Fuse's gun was not what Roadhog expected, and it took him thoroughly off guard.

Two wires fired from either side of the gun's barrel, little needles digging themselves into Roadhog's arm. At first he was surprised anything that small had gone through that huge coat and went to pull the wires out, confused...

Then Fuse pushed a button, and Roadhog went down.

He'd been electrocuted once, when he'd stupidly used jumper cables the wrong way to try to start his old car. He'd been sixteen, and was trying to avoid his father's wrath; he'd been told if he couldn't take care of the car then it would be taken away. Sure enough, a week later, the stupid piece of shit had broken down, and he was taking advice from a pair of incredibly stupid friends...

It had hurt. Bad. So badly, his friends nearly called an ambulance. He'd burned himself and had been left with a rather nasty scar on his leg from the ordeal. He had promised himself then and there that he wouldn't do anything so stupid again. Death by electricity was not the way he wanted to go, thank you very much.

Apparently, fate saw it differently.

The electricity that coursed through him now hurt worse than those jumper cables had. Roadhog was a big man, but that shit took him to his knees in a matter of seconds. Oddly, the only things that was going through his mind were surprise that such a tiny gun could hold so much power for this long, amazement that anyone even thought to put a powerful taser into a gun like that, and that Fuse was holding down that button for far longer than she had to.

She was going to kill him. The look on her face told him she was going to kill him.

And she was going to enjoy every second of it.

Roadhog wasn't a screamer. Even in his worst moments of pain, he never screamed. After that Omnium exploded, when the Outback fell to radiation and became some warped version of a Mad Max movie, he told himself he wouldn't show any sign of weakness again. Pain was weakness. Screaming was weakness.

He never screamed.

But in that moment, the pain coursing through his body drew a scream from his lips.

This sent Junkrat into action.

The lean man moved around Roadhog as quickly as he could through the snow and launched himself at Fuse. He knocked her off balance, grabbed for the gun in her hands, but ultimately failed; Fuse's gang decended on him like vultures and incapacitated him in a second. He did, however, manage to get her to loosen her grip on the damn button controlling the electricity pulsing through Roadhog's body. It stopped.

Roadhog felt...oddly cold. That couldn't be good.

"Roadie, get up, mate!" Junkrat screamed as he struggled to get away from the men holding him, "Get up, mate! Mako! GET UP!" It wasn't until that moment that Roadhog even knew he was lying face down in the snow. He couldn't really feel anything. He blinked a few times, wiggled his fingers...

If they moved, he certainly couldn't tell.

Fuse stepped up to the prone Roadhog and knelt down beside him. She adjusted the mask on his face, and chuckled, "Sombra said this'd work. She didn't say how well." She shrugged and let out a small sigh, "Ah, well. We got a coupla days, boys. Let's make 'em count, yeah?" She sent a wink down to Roadhog, got to her feet, and walked away.

From his spot on the ground in the snow, all Roadhog could see was Fuse's men moving past him. All he could hear was the laughter of the gang, and Junkrat's panicked cries as they dragged him away, begging for Roadhog to get up.  
__________________________________________________________________________________

It never seemed to fail that whenever he was getting a good night's sleep, something woke Winston. Usually it was Athena, giving him some variant of "urgent" news he absolutely had to know now. He kept telling himself he was going to discuss with her the terms of the word "urgent," but he hadn't gotten around to it.

As Athena woke him in the middle of the night yet again, however, Winston began to regret the decision he'd made to forego that conversation in favor of paperwork.

What could it possibly be this time?

"I assure you, Winston, the matter is urgent."

Winston was in the process of putting on his glasses (he actually missed his face with the damn things, he was so tired), and sighed, "Okay, fine. What is it?"

"Roadhog."

Winston glared up at the ceiling in the dark, as if that was going to get his point across to Athena just how irritated he was, "What about Roadhog?"

"He's returned, Winston. And he is injured."

Winston blinked. Had he missed something? Roadhog had returned? From where? Wait, he'd left? When had that happened? What? He opened his mouth to ask all of these questions out loud, but all that came out when he spoke was, "Athena, you'll have to explain."

"It appears that Junkrat and Roadhog left the facility earlier this morning, just before noon," Athena said, "I did not witness them leave, but they evidently used a malfunctioning door to do so."

Winston nodded; the outer door of Sector 8 had been malfunctioning for quite some time. Torbjorn had managed to fix it a couple of times, but the stupid thing refused to remain working for too long. Eventually, Winston stopped caring. No one used the damn thing anymore, and if it wasn't working, it wasn't a security issue. Plus, it was buried among some rock in the mountainside, hidden from view from anyone who didn't know about it. He hadn't been worried about anyone coming in that way.

It had never occured to him that someone would leave that way, though.

"Wait, what, why?" Winston stammered as he fumbled to find the light switch, "They left?"

"Yes," Athena said, her voice actually betraying a hint of irritation. "I have not asked for answers, Winston. The point is, Roadhog has returned -- alone -- and is asking for help in finding Junkrat."

The light blinded him as it filled the room, giving him a headache and forcing him to cover his eyes, "Junkrat's missing?"

"Evidently."

"Where's Roadhog now?"

"Security personel have escorted him to the medical bay. He is being treated by Dr. Zeigler."

Winston blinked, a knot forming in the pit of his stomach. Everyone knew how much Roadhog hated doctors. Angela had tried not to take it personally, but when someone calls you a butcher to your face, it's a little difficult not to take offense. Still, she remained as patient with the man as she could, encouraging him to come to her with any injuries he sustained from his practice sessions from Reinhardt. The fact that he was there now, willingly or not, meant that not only was he injured, but it was bad.

He left his room and practically ran to the med bay, charging inside once he got there. Angela was there, still dressed in her pajamas, frenzied and concerned. Roadhog was lying prone on one of the larger hospital beds; he was clearly breathing, but slowly. He wasn't moving, and didn't look at Winston as the scientist entered the room.

"Angela?" It was the only thing Winston said. It was the only word that could leave his mouth.

Angela swallowed as she gently stuck wires to Roadhog's chest. His coat was open, but not removed; she probably couldn't lift him enough to get the coat off completely. She was looking forlornly at the mask, biting her lip. "He's freezing," she said slowly, rubbing at tired eyes, "I don't know how long he's been out there, but it's amazing he's not suffering from hypothermia by now."

"What happened?"

"I don't know," Angela said, only now making eye contact with Winston, "Security said he showed up at the front gates asking for...for me." Her voice caught in her throat. She knew how much Roadhog disliked her. If he was asking for her directly, then he knew how badly he needed medical attention. "He collapsed at the gate. It took four men to get him here. All he said before he passed out was that Junkrat was gone and he was attacked." She sighed and shook her head, "Electrocuted, he said."

Winston's eyes widened, "Electrocuted?"

Angela nodded, "Yes." She let out a frustrated grunt, "I want to take off the mask...I need to remove the mask to properly check his vitals, but..." she shook her head. Winston nodded in agreement. It was probably not a good idea to take the guy's mask off. Not if she wanted to live long enough to help him.

"'M'wake," Roadhog muttered from the bed. Winston jumped a bit in surprise and moved toward him.

"Roadhog?" he asked, "What happened?"

Roadhog moved his head slightly, let out a groan, "Jamison...."

"...Jamison...?" Winston repeated, looking at Angela. Junkrat's real name was Jamison, according to his file, but neither one of them had ever heard anyone call him that before. Least of all Roadhog.

"Fuse...." Roadhog said, his voice shaky and quiet. The big man was normally quiet, but this was different. This was scary. A breathless word coming from a weakened body.

What the hell had happened?

Fuse was the name of the Junker who'd attacked them in Sydney, and who had captured Jack and Ana. Fuse was the crazy psycho who seemed to get lucky more often than not when it came to attacking people. She wasn't smart, from everything Winston had seen, but she was confident. She always just wound up in the right place at the right time for things to work out her way. It was almost magical, that she was still around at all. She should have been dead by now.

The fact that she was here, of all places, confused Winston. Was Roadhog simply saying things in a fatigue driven delusion, or was he serious? Could Fuse, a woman with little to no actual smarts and more luck than the average human being, actually have found them in Sweden? What kind of contacts did she have, if that were the case? Even if she'd gained that information from Ana or Jack while she had them captured, no one knew exactly where this place was. It had fallen from memory for a lot of people, having been one of the first Watchpoints shut down before Overwatch's fall. That was part of the reason they'd come here; it was remote and hard to find. Even Overwatch had forgotten about it at first.

And yet, apparently a Junker with an attitude problem had honed in on them.

Roadhog had to be rambling. He had to just be tired and having some kind of delusion. Fuse couldn't actually be here...

So then what had happened to Junkrat?

"We need to get search parties on this," Winston muttered to Angela as Roadhog relaxed into unconsciousness, "If Junkrat is out there alone he could freeze to death."

"Why would they leave?" Angela asked. She gave Roadhog a sad, concerned look, shaking her head, "It makes no sense, Winston, we tried so hard not to drive them away. Why would they leave us?"

Winston shrugged, "I don't know. I intend to find out, though. Athena."

There was a soft beep as Athena's presence entered the med bay, "Yes, Winston?" she asked, her voice coming through the overhead speakers.

"Call everyone into the briefing room. We have a problem."

"Yes, Winston." A quiet click indicated that she'd turned online to the rest of the facility, and her soft accented voice began calling over the speakers, "Agents, please report to the briefing room immediately."

She repeated that a few times even as Winston turned to leave the med bay. He turned back to face Angela as Athena's voice died down above him, "Take care of him, Angela."

Angela nodded, "Of course. Please, be careful out there."

Winston gave her a smile and returned her nod, "Of course."

He left the med bay without another word and headed for the briefing room. They had to find Junkrat before someone else did. If Fuse was in fact here, they had to find Junkrat before she killed him. If Fuse was in fact here, they had to find Junkrat before Talon inevitably showed up. Because if Fuse was in fact here in Sweden, if she had managed to find her way to the Watchpoint, then Talon would have no issue getting to them at all.

With Gabriel Reyes on their side, Talon could be at their doorstep any minute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you know how hard it was to make it even semi believable that Fuse beat Roadhog? He's such a force, it was impossible to bring him down. I went through rewrite after rewrite trying to make it work. I hope it came out okay. Poor guy took a bit of a beating though. :(
> 
> Sorry, Roadie.
> 
> Also, I originally had this idea of Fuse being this huge force to be reckoned with, someone to be feared and loathed. What she's turned into is a barely functioning villain that just sorta gets lucky nine times out of ten. I find it funny, considering I'd planned so much more for her. At this point, I almost hate to kill her off, just because I'm finding it amusing to have her lose all the time. It's comical, at this point, just how bad she is at...like...EVERYTHING.


	25. A Lead to Go On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had this chapter all written up and then my computer almost crashed. I lost everything, and nearly had a heart attack to boot.
> 
> So I had to rewrite the chapter. In the long run, I think this one came out better than the last one I had written up. Nice little filler chapter between action sequences. And trust me, the next chapter will be an action sequence. Gotta rescue my Junker baby, yeah?
> 
> Anyway, I learned a valuable lesson from this chapter: Always, always, ALWAYS save your damn work.
> 
> That is all.
> 
> Enjoy.

This was taking way too long.

They'd spent the last three hours sending out search parties to find any clue to Junkrat's whereabouts. A light snow had begun to fall, so any leads the parties had were quickly disappearing. Not that there were many leads to begin with. The only information they were running off of was that the Junker pair had left the base via the malfunctioning door in Sector 8, off the south side of the mountain. There had been footprints for a while, but then it looked like they'd been actively trying to cover their tracks. The freshly fallen snow didn't help matters.

The fact that it was rapidly becoming a blizzard was a problem.

Mei sat in the med bay, in a very uncomfortable chair situated next to the bed that currently held Roadhog. She watched absently as Angela worked on the big man, the tight knot of worry in her stomach making her want to throw up.

Roadhog _had_ to wake up soon. If not for his own health then for Junkrat's. He had to tell them where Junkrat was, where he had been before Roadhog had come back injured.

"You should go try to get some sleep," Angela muttered. At some point, she'd managed to get out of her pajamas and into some proper clothes in between treating Roadhog. The poor woman looked exhausted and almost lost; it was becoming increasingly hard to treat the big Junker without removing the mask covering his face; she'd already had to resuscitate him twice. Removing the mask would, however, likely result in him getting angry when he did eventually wake up.

Only way to guarantee he woke up at all though was to take off that mask....

This was what one would call a Catch 22.

Mei shook her head, her gaze never shifting from Roadhog's prone form. "I can't," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Angela stopped her fussing for one moment to look at Mei. She gave the other woman a small, sad smile and moved to stand next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder, "Mei, I appreciate your concern for Roadhog, but there's nothing for you to do here. You can't speak to him until he wakes up." She shrugged, shaking her head, "Please, go try to get some sleep. You'll need to be rested when they find Junkrat."

Mei gave a shaky sigh, tears forming in her eyes beneath her glasses, "I can't sleep, Angela," she whispered again, her voice cracking. "I can't. Not when he's out there, alone. Not when he's in trouble, I can't."

Angela nodded, "I understand."

She went back to fussing over Roadhog, leaving Mei in the chair beside the bed. Mei didn't know how long she waited there in silence, but at one point she decided the silence had to be broken; it was deafening. "It hurts, you know."

Angela turned her gaze to Mei, cocking her head to one side inquisitively, "What does, dear?"

"Freezing to death," Mei whispered, biting her lip.

Angela went pale and swallowed uncomfortably, "Oh, Mei...you can't...think of that."

Mei nodded, "I know I shouldn't. But I can't stop. I came very close to dying that way once. It _hurt_. Fighting it hurts. And I'm worried...what if he stops fighting it? It doesn't hurt so much when you stop fighting. You just go to sleep and..." she trailed off, tears rolling down her face as silent sobs wracked her body.

This had been a man that, for the longest time, she'd been determined to hate. He was a bully, wasting his life on taking things from other people instead of trying to make a bad situation better. He didn't even seem to recognize it, either, the fact that he'd been hurting people. He honestly believed he was doing to them what they would do to him before they got the chance to do it. What an awful way to think, to live...

How stupid and closed minded must one be to believe that way?

But Junkrat was far from stupid. He was, in fact, very nearly a genius. And Mei began to recognize that, were Junkrat put into a different situation, he could be living a very different life. But he hadn't been given that chance. He'd been put into a situation he couldn't control, and had done what he could to survive. Stealing, destroying, bullying? Those were things he _had_ to do to _live_. Once Mei saw that, once she understood, she was able to move past her hatred of him. She had to, if she was going to show him that no, that's not how life works everywhere else in the world. Not everyone was out to screw you. You could have friends who genuinely cared. And he'd responded well to that.

And somewhere along the line, Mei's hatred had turned to friendship.

Somewhere along the line, friendship had turned into something more.

She hadn't recognized it until this moment, that she perhaps cared for Junkrat a bit more than she'd originally thought. She enjoyed spending time around the guy, he was funny and had an annoying charm to him that she just couldn't ignore. She couldn't call it love, not yet. But it was something more than friendship.

And she didn't want to lose him.

She could remember her friends' faces vividly, those who had worked with her in Antarctica. Those who had frozen to death when Overwatch had all but abandoned them. She remembered their names, their voices. It had taken her a long time to get over losing them. They had been her family, and suddenly they were gone.

If she lost Junkrat the same way, she wasn't sure she'd ever recover.

So, she sat in that med bay sobbing for a man she'd come to care for, hoping and praying he would be okay when -- if -- they found him. She couldn't help it. She was worried. Worried she'd never see Junkrat alive again.

Who would have ever thought she'd worry about that?

Angela was there then, scooping her up into a tight hug as she knelt down beside the tiny scientist. Mei returned the hug, gripping Angela as though the doctor was her last lifeline to sanity, and sobbed softly into her shoulder.

"Did I miss something?"

The voice caught them off guard and they turned to face the door to see who had spoken. Torbjorn stood there, holding a small tracking device in one hand and looking very worried at the state of the two women before him; his good eye flicked between the two of them, his brow furrowed. "Something happen?"

"No, Torby," Angela said as she pushed herself to her feet, "Mei is worried. I was simply trying to offer some comfort."

"Oh," Torbjorn said with a nod, letting out an audible sigh of relief, "Oh, thank God. I thought maybe some bad news had come in or something." He stepped toward them, giving Mei a small smile, "There's no need to worry, dear. I have something that might help."

Mei's eyebrows shot up and she let out a shaky breath, "What is it?"

"Back when Junkrat first set himself up in my workshop, he made some kind of modification to his grenade launcher. I was worried he'd try to break into the weapons locker and attach the damn thing without anyone knowing, so I installed a tracker inside the gun. That way, if he took it and tried to hide it away, we'd know where it was." He shrugged at the two women's disapproving looks and waved his free hand toward them, "This was before we really knew the kid, what did you expect me to do? I thought for sure he'd blow us all up."

"You didn't think he'd notice something like that?" Angela asked, crossing her arms over her chest as she shook her head.

"That's just it," Torbjorn stated, his face lighting up with excitement, "He never went to get the gun. He never saw the device. Until he left this morning, Junkrat never put his hands on that grenade launcher. It's entirely possible he hasn't removed the tracker."

Something clicked in Mei's brain and she perked up, "If he still has the gun, we could track him."

"Exactly," Torbjorn stated, his smile wide, "We can find the kid. We can bring him home!"  
__________________________________________________________________________________

Jack had tried to veto it, tried to tell them all it was a bad idea. They were going out, facing a huge number of unknowns, all to rescue some criminal Junker who couldn't be trusted. It didn't make any sense, and it was going to get them all killed.

Torbjorn had been the most vocal about it, of course. The little man had never really liked Jack, and quite frankly the feeling was mutual. The two of them were too stubborn and stuck in their ways to ever really get along. Jack felt that Torbjorn was impulsive and reckless, not nearly as smart as he believed himself to be. Torbjorn felt Jack was a cocky asshole who constantly felt he had something to prove, and did so by bullying others to his point of view. Even in the golden days of Overwatch, the two men argued between missions; Torbjorn was at least smart enough to shut up and take orders while on the battlefield.

But now, the idiot was leading the charge, dismissing Jack's ideas and going off half cocked to perform a rescue that might not even be needed. A blizzard was coming, and Torbjorn had dragged five people out into it.

And worse than that was the fact Winston had sanctioned it. He'd allowed it to happen. He'd agreed and had even asked Tracer to go so she could pilot the ship (it would be faster for them to track the signal from the air, he'd said). Jack couldn't do anything to stop this and it didn't feel good. His friends weren't listening, he couldn't get them to listen.

So, he stood on one of the outside balconies, looking out at the snow covered woods. If he couldn't stop it, he could at least hope for the best. Telling them they were going to fail was a surefire way to get them to fail. So he'd wished them luck, asked them to come back safe, and left the hangar.

He watched the drop ship leave from his spot on that balcony. The sky was still dark, though his watch told him it was nearing six in the morning. The clouds were heavy and black, fat snowflakes falling from them at a rapid pace. That blizzard was coming in very soon, and they'd be stuck out there if they didn't hurry. That old knot of worry formed in his stomach and he took a deep breath.

"This better work, Torbjorn," he muttered.

He couldn't lose his friends again. Not like this.

He'd done what he could to stop it. Now all he could do was pray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate Soldier: 76 as a character, but my God is he genuinely interesting to write....


	26. How to Save a Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was oddly hard for me to write. Not just emotionally, but like, it didn't want to be written. I wrote it about four times, each time going back to change something else, then rewrote it another three times trying to make it right. I still feel like it's a little...fast, I guess is the word? But honestly, I just wanted to get this chapter out because of the trouble it's given me. I hope it's okay, guys.
> 
> EDIT: Sorry it's taking so long to get an update in. I assure you, this is continuing, I'm not abandoning it! Far from it! I'm working on it, but life has made things a bit hard for me lately. The next chapter might be up later this week, if I can manage it.  
> Again, it's not abandoned, and I am finishing this. I promise! You won't remain in the dark for long, okay?

Tracer couldn't read Torbjorn's tracker, so he took it upon himself to sit next to her in the ship's cockpit and guide her where they needed to go. As she flew, she couldn't help but notice that they were heading in the opposite direction of the nearby town, and away from any civilization that she knew of since arriving in Sweden. That was bad. If Junkrat was out in the open, and this blizzard hit before they found him...

Making matters worse was the fact that they didn't exactly have a good idea of the situation they were walking into. Had Roadhog been in his right mind when he'd accused Fuse of being involved, or had he been having delusions and made the whole thing up? If Fuse was here, then the question became how she'd found them and why she'd followed them this far. If Fuse wasn't involved and Junkrat was alone, how bad off would he be? It had been at least six hours since Roadhog had come back from their little trek alone, so that meant that Junkrat had been out in the cold much longer than that. What condition would they find him in, if they found him at all?

Tracer was preparing herself for the worst, even while hoping for the best.

She didn't want to admit out loud that they might be searching for nothing more than a frozen body at this point, but that was her fear: that they'd arrived too late to save Junkrat and they'd be bringing his corpse back to the Watchpoint for a funeral. Since Angela was busy with trying to keep Roadhog alive, she hadn't been able to come; in her place, both Lucio and Ana had volunteered. Angela vetoed Ana going, so Lucio was their only option left, and while Tracer liked the guy quite a lot, she wasn't entirely sure his fancy gun was up to the task of healing someone who would be a popsicle by now.

They'd only been flying for about a half hour when Torbjorn stated that his tracker had found its quarry. Tracer wasn't entirely sure how he knew for certain that they'd found anything at all; the screen didn't look any different than it had looked this entire time, and it wasn't making any noise, but he insisted that they'd found it.

They'd found the grenade launcher.

Now it became a matter of hoping Junkrat was with it.

The rocky ground below them made it impossible for Tracer to land in that exact spot, so she flew a quarter mile or so to the south to set the ship down in an open, snow covered field. The ship sank heavily to one side in the snow, causing everyone to lose balance as they stood up. Tracer kept the engines running even as the passengers inside got ready; it would be hell trying to warm the ship back up in this cold, especially if they didn't make it back here before the blizzard hit.

The clouds outside looked awful dark...

"Stick close together," Mei announced as she made her way to the front of the group, "If that storm comes in while we're still out there, you could get lost. We don't need to be performing two rescues today."

Everyone gathered up around her as Tracer opened the door, drawing their winter clothes around themselves when the cold wind outside hit them. A light snow was just beginning to fall, the precursor to the quickly approaching blizzard.

They needed to hurry.

Since the snow came up to Torbjorn's stomach, Reinhardt volunteered to cut a path for the smaller man while Torbjorn gave him directions via the tracker; since he was the only one who could _read_ the damn thing, this was the only way they could do it. As they got closer to the spot Torbjorn said Junkrat's gun would be, everyone became unanimously quiet. No one knew what they'd find when they crested the ridge, all they knew was that if Junkrat had in fact been captured, they couldn't let his captors know they were there. That would be a surefire way for them to kill him.

So they approached the coordinates on bated breath, hoping for the best but expecting the worst.

Even the worst they'd expected was better than what they saw.

Fuse was in fact involved; she and what remained of her gang had managed to set themselves up in a little rocky outcropping, protected from the wind to such a degree that the grass they'd set themselves up on was only covered in a light layer of frost instead of the deep snow that surrounded them. They still had to be cold, but the worst of the elements were eluding them for the most part. They'd set up a campfire that was illuminating the little outcropping well enough that the Overwatch agents could see the faces of every single Junker there from their hiding spot; there were only around fourteen.

A far cry from the sixty who had attacked them in Sydney.

But the truly shocking thing was not that Fuse was here; a large part of them had expected it after hearing what Roadhog had said before passing out. The truly shocking thing was what sat at the center of the Junker camp:

A beaten, bloodied, and currently unconscious Junkrat.

He was tied to a small tree, which was just about the only thing holding him upright at this point. His nose was bleeding and there was a blood on his coat that had clearly come through from some kind of wound inflicted on his stomach. His peg leg was missing, tossed off haphazardly to one side of the camp...next to the gun Torbjorn's tracker had been set to follow. Junkrat's hair was wet, slicked down across his face with blood, sweat, and maybe water from the snow around them. The left sleeve of his coat had been torn, leaving his arm exposed to the cold.

Worst of all, he wasn't moving. It didn't even look like he was breathing.

Panic overtook Mei and it wasn't until she was being actively shoved back behind their little rocky hiding place that she even knew she'd tried to run toward him. Evidently, she'd tried to call out to him as well, because McCree's hand was covering her mouth and he touched one finger of the other hand to his lips, signalling her to be quiet. He shook his head, his eyes wide, and Mei tried to calm herself.

She had to get a hold of herself, it was true. Rushing in there like an idiot would only be a surefire way to get people killed. To get Junkrat killed.

If he wasn't dead already.

Unfortunately, Mei's startled cry had caught the attention of the Junkers before the agents were able to come up with a plan of attack. They all turned simultaneously to face the agents' hiding place, and drew their weapons. Fuse let out a frustrated growl and shook her head, moving to the front of the group with her new fancy gun at the ready.

She'd wasted the entire charge taking out Roadhog.

But her visitors didn't need to know that.

"You stumbled on the wrong party, mate!" Fuse called, "Come on out, and we'll make it painless, yeah?"

Evidently she wasn't aware as to whom, exactly, her visitors were. So imagine her look of surprise when the Overwatch agents stepped out from behind that rock, weapons at the ready, and stood up on the ridge above her looking down. Her eyes widened and a glint of anger passed through them. She shook her head and let out a frustrated scream.

"No! You fuckers! You can't be here!"

"We're just here for Junkrat," McCree drawled, motioning toward the man with a nod of his head, "That's all. Hand him over, you're free to go."

Fuse snorted, a very unladylike sound that came from the back of her throat, and shook her head, "Oh, trust me when I say that the treasure you're after? Not worth it, mate. At all."

"We're not here for the treasure," Mei stated, surprised at the fact that her voice sounded more steady than she actually felt, "We're only here for him."

Fuse's brow furrowed and she looked over her shoulder at Junkrat's prone form. "What?" She turned her gaze back to the agents, her face contorted with confusion, "I don't understand. Why?"

"If you don't understand, we're certainly not going to try to explain it to you," Torbjorn muttered, "Just hand the kid over." His hand was already inside his toolkit, prepared to withdraw the turret he could erect quickly in case this became a fight. Which he knew it would; Fuse was stupid, but she was also stubborn. She'd fight to keep her hands on Junkrat and finish whatever it is she'd started with him. She'd lose, but she'd fight.

They just had to make sure Junkrat didn't get caught in the crossfire.

Fuse shook her head and gave a frustrated sigh, "Look...I dunno if you're aware, but Jamison here has been lyin' to you. Whatever you want from him, he can't give." She motioned toward Junkrat with a shrug, "His treasure? There ain't none. He made it up. He lied."

"First of all," McCree stated, nonchalantly looking over Peacekeeper in his hand, "I already told ya we ain't here for the treasure. Second of all," he turned his gaze on Fuse, his eyes narrowed, "even if we were, you think for one minute we'd believe a single fuckin' word that comes outta your mouth?"

"No, except it's the truth," Fuse said with a shrug, "He told me so as I cut into 'im. He made it up."

Behind McCree, Mei's face contorted with anger and she let out a little growl. McCree gave her a mildly surprised glance over his shoulder, his brow furrowed, and returned his gaze to Fuse. "You're gonna wanna stop talkin' now, woman."

Fuse laughed, "You shoulda tried the torture route months ago, love. He gave me everything I needed to know the second the pain started."

"So why didn't the pain _stop_?" Torbjorn asked, his voice a low grumble.

Fuse gave a shrug and looked down at the gun in her hand. Normally she wasn't one for talking things out, but in this case, she felt like she was doing Overwatch a favor. In her mind, they shared a common nuisance in the form of Jamison Fawkes, and if she promised to get rid of him for them, they wouldn't have anything to fight for. In her mind, she could talk her way out of this. In her mind, she could convince them that Junkrat wasn't worth the trouble and make them go home, while she collected a hefty payday from Talon.

The thing about talking though, is that one often needs to know when to _stop_.

"I was havin' too much fun to stop. He squeals like a pig when he's in pain, and it's glorious. I've never wanted to cause someone so much pain in my life, and I didn't want to stop." She shook her head, looking amused as her gang laughed around her, "Was told not to kill him, so I didn't. Wasn't told nothin' 'bout hurtin' him, though. And don't you worry none. Talon won't get nothin' either. They won't have the upper hand, because there's no hand to be had."

"Talon?" Reinhardt asked, his voice strained.

Fuse sent him a wink, "Payin' me top dollar to deliver him, mate. Didn't say what condition he had to be in, yeah?"

"So you asked him a question," Mei said; her voice was so low, it could barely be heard and Fuse gave her a blank stare as she strained to listen, "and he answered it. And you still hurt him...even after he answered it."

Fuse nodded, "Pretty much, yeah. I took care of your problem, mates," she said, sounding frustrated. What were they not understanding about this? Junkrat wasn't their problem anymore. She'd handled it, and Talon never had to know that she knew the treasure was a lie. Junkrat would get what he deserved for being a lying, smarmy bastard, she'd get rich, and Overwatch no longer had to play bodyguard.

Everyone wins.

One thing no one ever expected from Mei-Ling Zhou was that she was an angry person. She was generally very pleasant to be around, and for the most part she got along with everyone she met very well. She tried to be nice to everyone, understanding toward everyone. It had taken a while, but she'd even managed to see past her initial dislike of Junkrat and Roadhog long enough to become friends with them. She prided herself on the fact that, while she was an angry individual, she could control it well; it took a lot to get her blood pressure up, because when she got mad people got hurt, and it scared her.

She didn't want to hurt anyone.

But in that moment, she wanted to drive an icicle through Fuse's brain and make every second of the action nothing but pure agony for the Junker woman. She wanted to watch Fuse suffer in pain, the way she'd made Junkrat suffer. In that moment, Mei's anger bled through.

Fuse was a bully.

And Mei _hated_ bullies.

She wasn't about to lose Junkrat to a common street thug who was too stupid to realize that the people she was talking to were Junkrat's _friends_. Fuse was bragging about hurting someone they cared about, someone Mei had come to feel affection toward. She was _bragging_ about some deal she'd made with Talon, who pretty much wanted Overwatch dead at this point. She was telling lies, hurting people, and _laughing about it_.

In less than a second, Mei had removed Snowball from the pack at her back. She looked at Fuse with narrowed eyes and stepped forward to stand in front of McCree. "Junkrat isn't the problem here," she said, her voice echoing a bit off the nearby rocks. "You are."

Fuse chuckled, "Listen, China Doll --"

" _Dòng zhù! Bùxǔ zǒu!_ "

She tossed Snowball down at the small group of Junkers in an almost dainty fashion that definitely didn't match her current mood. The little robot quickly glided down toward the gang where Fuse caught it, dropping her gun in the process. She gave Snowball a confused look, tilting her head to one side like a curious dog, then transferred the look up to Mei, shaking her head, "What the hell?"

No sooner had she said the words than Snowball let out a chipper beep and began to hover above Fuse's outstretched hands. Panic overtook the Junker gang as they began to freeze in place, covered in ice like some kind of sadistic sculpture. Several tried to run away, but no one made it to the radius that denoted safety.

Something clicked inside Mei's brain then, and she stopped just short of driving icicles through each and every one of those Junkers' heads. She lowered her gun and took a deep breath, tears stinging in the corners of her eyes.

They couldn't fight back, and Mei was no bully.

Unfortunately for the Junkers, McCree had no qualms about such things. While he preferred a fair fight, it was clear the Junkers weren't going to give them one. They'd proven that much by torturing a man half to death while he was tied to a tree, unable to fight back, _after_ he'd given them the information they'd asked for. That kind of thing had been why he'd left Blackwatch; wanton torture wasn't something he agreed with.

It had been a bit of a point of contention between himself and Gabe all those years ago.

So, he fired. He emptied his first clip into six of the Junkers' heads, the reloaded and finished the job. In the end, he decided to leave Fuse alive; she'd outright admitted to working with Talon, and they needed whatever information they could get at this point. He would much prefer to kill her like he had the others, but anything that held Talon off just a bit longer would help, at least for a little while.

Snow began to fall as the Junkers began to thaw out, one by one, falling to the ground in bloody heaps. Fuse hit the ground, shivering, hugging herself, and looked around.

They were all gone. Every one of her gang, dead.

Heads would roll.

Except not really, because at that moment the agents came down into the camp toward her and Reinhardt physically restrained the much smaller woman so she was unable to move. He wasn't exactly gentle about it, either, judging by her little high pitched squeaks of pain. "Lemme go!" she yelped, giving a few futile tugs against Reinhardt's grip, "You killed my friends, lemme go, you bastards!"

"You tortured _our_ friend!" McCree fired back, getting in her face as he spoke, "You're lucky you ain't dead yourself, bitch."

Fuse let out a frustrated growl and spit directly into McCree's face; to his credit, he didn't react by beating the ever loving shit out of her. Instead he gave her one punch, just one, right in the stomach. Fuse collapsed forward but was unable to fall because of Reinhardt's grip on her. "Arsehole," she wheezed, somehow managing a death glare up at McCree even through the pain.

McCree gave her a cynical chuckle, shaking his head, "Yeah. I'm the asshole."

The rest of the group, meanwhile, had gone to Junkrat's side. Tracer was the first to get to him; she untied him and gently lowered him to the ground. He felt ice cold to the touch, even through her gloves, and for a moment all she wanted to do was cry. Lucio was there next, trying his best to feel for a pulse and get the healing aura working on his gun. He let out a shaky sigh of relief when it became obvious to him that Junkrat was still breathing, but he was still in panic mode.

This tech wasn't made for this.

When Lucio had volunteered to come find Junkrat, he'd been under the impression they'd find Junkrat very cold but conscious and alive, easy to heal. This...this was completely different. This was something more in Angela's wheelhouse, not his. The tech he'd stolen from Vishkar didn't have the capabilities to heal this, all he was managing to do was bring Junkrat back to what would be a _very_ painful conscious state. He couldn't get Junkrat back up on his feet out here. Hell, Ana and Angela _together_ may not have been able to get Junkrat up and running in this state.

Lucio was way in over his head, and he was panicking.

What little medical knowledge he had came from his mother back in Brazil. He took that knowledge to help his people, back when Vishkar had overtaken the favela, but he was never a doctor like his mother had been. He considered himself a healer, but not to this degree. What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to help Junkrat with his limited knowledge and what basically amounted to a magic music gun?

Mei knelt down beside him, placing a gentle hand on Junkrat's forehead, and gave him a small, sad glance, "Lucio?"

Lucio shook his head, eyes wide, "I'm trying...I am trying...I just...I don't know..."

"Calm down, kid," Torbjorn said, "Take it slow."

"Junkrat's gonna wake up," Lucio said, "He's gonna wake up, and he's gonna be in pain. I don't think...I don't think I can help him well enough to stop that. I don't think I can help him well enough to get him back up long enough to get him back to the ship..." He was rambling, saying words without fully knowing how to stop them from coming out of his mouth.

"Lucio, calm down," Tracer said, putting a hand on his shoulder, "Calm down and breathe. You can do this."

Lucio looked up at her and shook his head with a sigh, "I'm trying."

"I know you are, but you're also panicking," Tracer said, "You can't do that, you have to stay calm."

"I have an idea," Mei said, her gaze never leaving Junkrat. "It might work long enough to get him back to the Watchpoint..."

"So, do it then," Torbjorn said, his voice stilted.

Mei nodded, "Okay, back up." By this point, Snowball had returned to its place in the pack at Mei's back. Mei once again reached up to pluck the little thing from its perch. Thanks to Lucio's slow healing capabilities, Junkrat was beginning to regain consciousness, and it was clear he wasn't happy about this; the Junker was moaning in pain, tears forming in his eyes as he quietly begged for the pain to stop. The begging made Mei's heart ache for him and she placed a hand on his chest, leaning over so that she was looking him right in the face. His eyes were open a bit, but whether he could actually see her she didn't know.

"Junkrat," she said, her voice cracking, "I need you to trust me. Okay? I need for you to just...just know I'm not going to hurt you." She took a deep breath and tried to give him a comforting smile, "It's going to feel weird, and it might be a little scary, but...please, Junkrat, don't panic. Please. I'm trying to save your life."

Junkrat let out a tiny moan and slowly shook his head, reaching up feebly as though trying to touch Mei. Mei grabbed a hold of his hand and looked back at her friends with tears forming in her eyes. The snow was beginning to fall more heavily around them; they had to hurry before they got caught in this blizzard. "Please don't panic," she said, this time addressing the group behind her, "I'm not hurting him."

She pressed a button on Snowball's underside and placed the tiny robot on Junkrat's chest, then leaned over and planted a gentle kiss on the Junker's freezing forehead. "You're not going to die. I won't let you die, okay?"

The last time she'd done this, she'd used it on herself to save her own life after waking up in Antarctica. She'd needed a way to survive a blizzard that was coming through the area just long enough for Overwatch to come pick her up. So, she'd used Snowball to encase herself in ice. It had been a rather scary process, something not quite akin to cryogenic freezing. She'd been aware of the process the entire time, unlike the time she'd spent unconscious in the pod. But the ice block Snowball had created for her had kept her warm, healed the wounds she'd received trying to break her friends out of their pods. Snowball had saved her life, and now she hoped it would do the same for Junkrat.

It had to.

She couldn't lose him.

The process was much slower than she remembered as the ice slowly encased Junkrat. If her friends were panicking, they didn't make it known verbally. Only after Junkrat was safely inside that ice block did Mei chance a look at the group behind her. Tracer was crying, Lucio looked pale, Fuse looked enraged and everyone else just looked shocked. Mei gave them a nod and said in a shaky voice, "That should keep him alive until we get home. Lucio did what he could, let's let Angela do the rest."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This idea, of Mei saving Junkrat with her ice block, was one of the first scenes I had planned for this fic. Everything else that's happened up to this point was literally planned around this one moment. Is that bad of me? I figured, if Mei can use the ice block to save herself in game, doesn't it stand to reason that, if she wants to, she could use it to save someone else in the lore? Made sense to me, and when I ran the idea past my friend, her exact reaction was, "Ooh, why not? It makes sense!" So, this scene was born.
> 
> I also _really_ didn't want to kill Fuse. I hate her, but she's grown on me, and I wasn't quite done with her yet. So Overwatch is (probably rather stupidly) keeping her alive for a bit. Let's see if I can think of something to do with her...Hmm...


	27. What We Stand For

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY CRAP, I'm so sorry this took so long!
> 
> It's been an awful month. Just awful. I won't get into details, for the sake of your sanity, dear readers, but trust me, it's been bad.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! And sorry again!!

By the time they got Junkrat back to the ship, the blizzard had hit. It took everything Tracer had to make the flight back home through the snow; visibility was nearly nil, and it took just over an hour to get there, but she did it.

Best pilot in the world? Maybe not. But she was certainly _one_ of the best.

She called in for medical assistance just before they landed in the hangar bay back at the Watchpoint. Sure enough, Angela was there waiting for them when they landed; she quickly recruited Ana and an incredibly tired looking Lucio to help her with Junkrat. Mei was also permitted to come back to the med bay, but only long enough to help them get Junkrat out of the ice block. Fuse, meanwhile, was searched and taken to a cell until she could be questioned. She fought them the entire time they walked there, but eventually just took a seat at the far end of the cell, sulking like a petulant child.

According to Angela's reports, Junkrat had been severely beaten, suffering a few facial fractures as a result. He had several broken ribs and a cracked collarbone, and the gang had removed his peg leg in a less than gentle fashion, causing the stump to bleed quite a bit. He had a stab wound that had been crudely treated (Fuse _had_ admitted that they didn't want him to die, so maybe she'd tried to stop the bleeding), and cuts and bruises all over his body. The worst of it, however, was the cold. He had severe hypothermia, and according to Ana, would have died of exposure had he stayed out there any longer. Between the bleeding and the cold, Mei had saved his life by freezing him in that block of ice: she'd essentially cryogenically frozen him long enough to get him home.

The blizzard relentlessly pounded against the mountain housing the Watchpoint for the next two days, during which Junkrat remained unconscious in the med bay. His friends went to visit him daily, and Angela, Ana, and Lucio took turns caring for him. Roadhog woke up a few hours after the rescue team had returned with Junkrat, and despite Angela's protestations, left the med bay. He only came back to see how Junkrat was doing, and didn't stay long.

On the plus side, he did thank Angela for helping him before he insisted on leaving, so he was at least grateful.

Junkrat awoke almost exactly forty eight hours after the rescue team had brought him back. Mei was lounging in a chair beside his bed, reading softly to him from a book she'd noticed him picking at the last time they'd been in the library together. She didn't even know if he liked it, but it was better than doing nothing. Angela had assured everyone that he could hear them talking, so Mei figured some light reading would relax him, keep him out of pain. At least for a while. She'd been fighting the urge to sleep (it really _was_ a boring book, even by her standards), when the Junker made a small sound from the bed. Mei looked up to see him staring at her through slitted eyes. Her eyes widened in surprise and she literally dropped the book as she stood to move closer to the bed. He gave her a small, tired grin when she grabbed hold of his hand and swallowed hard before trying to speak.

"No," Mei whispered, putting a gentle hand against his lips, "It's okay, don't talk." She turned her surprised gaze from him up toward where she knew Angela was sitting in her office, a few yards away, "Dr. Zeigler!"

Angela poked her head out of the office doorway, leaning back in her rolling chair where she'd been sitting to finish up some paperwork. The poor woman looked tired, her hair a frizzy mess pulled back out of her face in a lose pony tail. Her eyebrows raised as she met Mei's frantic gaze, concern leaking onto her features. "Is something wrong?"

"He's awake!" Mei said breathlessly, "Junkrat is awake!"

Angela got up out of her chair so quickly she nearly knocked it over, practically running the few yards it took to get to Junkrat's bed. Her eyes were wide as she approached the Junker's side; he turned his feeble gaze to meet her and Angela let out a small gasp of delight.

He'd lived. After all he'd been through, after everything they'd had to do to keep him alive, he'd lived. Everyone had been so scared he wouldn't pull through...

Angela chuckled softly and gently touched his arm, "Hello, Jamison."

He met her greeting with a soft groan, his brow furrowing. Angela turned toward one of the machines he was hooked to and pushed a few buttons.

"What are you doing?" Mei asked, watching the good doctor with mild confusion and concern.

"Upping his medication dosage," Angela said with a shrug, "He has to be in pain right now; waking up after all he's been through has to be a harrowing experience."

"Are you trying to knock him out again?" Mei asked, "That seems...like a lot."

"Of course not," Angela answered, shaking her head as she looked Junkrat over, "I want him to remain awake for as long as possible." She didn't vocalize her concerns about him going back to sleep so soon after waking up: the very valid concern that he wouldn't wake up again. "Jamison, I need you to just shake your head yes or no in answer to my questions, all right? Do you understand?"

Junkrat nodded, a tiny, barely discernable movement that sent a flutter of happiness through Angela. He could hear them. He could understand them. This was good.

"Do you know where you are?" Angela continued, even as she proceeded to check him over; she needed to make sure he could move, even if it was a small amount, and she needed to make sure he could feel her touching him. Junkrat answered the question with another small nod, which Angela returned.

"Do you remember what happened to you?"

Junkrat swallowed hard and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and nodded.

Honestly, as good as it was that he could remember details, Angela had been hoping the answer to that question was going to be no. Remembering what Fuse's gang had done to him couldn't be a pleasant memory to have.

The doctor swallowed hard and nodded, looking up to meet Mei's eyes with her own. The scientist had tears in her eyes, and Angela couldn't tell if they were tears of happiness or worry. Perhaps both? "Mei, can you do me the favor of letting everyone know he's awake?"

Mei nodded, bit her lip, gave Junkrat's hand a small squeeze, and ran off to the nearest console to get in contact with Athena. Angela continued her checkup of Junkrat, pleased to see that nothing was wrong aside from the injuries he'd already come in with; even the stab wound was nearly perfectly healed, thanks to the nano technology they had on hand.

Thank God for that. They could have lost him otherwise.

Mei returned shortly with news that Winston was on his way to the med bay, along with everyone who had been on the rescue team, plus Roadhog, Ana and, for some reason, Jack. Angela didn't know why their old Commander was involving himself in this -- Ana had at least helped treat Junkrat's wounds -- but she wasn't going to question it now. If he wanted to see how Junkrat was doing, she wasn't going to stop him from doing so.

"They should be here, soon," Mei said, returning to her place beside Junkrat's bed and taking his hand again.

Junkrat gave Mei one brief, confused look before speaking, his voice quiet and hoarse, "Why'd you bring me 'ere?"

"You were dying." Mei said, disbelief oozing from her voice, "I know you don't like the med bay, but--"

He cut her off, shaking his head, "No, I mean...why'd you bring me back, at all?"

Mei and Angela exchanged a look and Angela shrugged, motioning toward Junkrat as though insisting Mei just answer the question. Mei nodded and looked down at Junkrat with a furrowed brow. He looked so much smaller in this stupid hospital bed, so much more vulnerable huddled under the covers drawn up to his chin. Mei bit her lip, looking concerned.

"Why would you ask that question, Junkrat?" she asked, barely hiding the hurt tone of her voice. The fact that, after all this time, he still didn't believe them when they said they liked him made her more than a little irritated.

She cared about this man.

How could he not see that?

Junkrat took a deep breath, wincing in pain as he did so; the broken ribs still hadn't fully healed, apparently, "I just...I needed to go. I shouldn't be here."

Mei shook her head, "I don't understand. _Why_ did you need to go?"

It was at this point that Winston entered the room, flanked on either side by Ana and Jack. As they came in, McCree, Reinhardt, Torbjorn, Tracer, Lucio, and Roadhog all followed closely behind.

"Oh, thank God," Torbjorn said, once he saw Junkrat awake in the bed, "You survived."

"We were worried," McCree said, his voice a lazy drawl as he offered the Junker a small smile.

Junkrat's gaze lit up when he saw Roadhog push his way to the front of the group and he swallowed hard, his voice cracking as he yelped "Mako! You're okay!"

Roadhog let out a small huff that resembled a chuckle and nodded, "Hell yeah. Fuse can't kill me, kid."

"I was worried."

Roadhog's entire body seemed to relax in that moment and he gave a shrug, "Well...thanks. I was worried about you, too."

"How's he doing?" Ana asked, stepping forward to stand beside Angela.

"He's in some pain, but he should be okay," Angela answered with a small grin.

Junkrat scoffed, " _Some_ pain? Understatement of the century, luv."

Angela gave him an apologetic glance, "If I give you any more pain medication, you'll pass out."

"Would that be so bad?"

"Considering the fight we had to wake you up before?" Angela asked, pushing all pretense aside now, "Yes. Yes, it would be very bad. Just give this dosage some time to work, all right? It won't be immediate."

Junkrat let out a sad sounding little groan and sighed, shaking his head and swallowing hard. He didn't say a word in response to this, but looked like he might cry. Mei gave his hand a comforting squeeze in response.

"Sorry, kid," McCree said, giving him a shrug and a sympathetic stare.

"I shouldn't be here..." Junkrat whispered, pulling his hand out of Mei's grip, "You shouldn't have brought me back here."

"What are you talking about?" Torbjorn asked, sounding annoyed, "You would have died out there if we hadn't gone after you."

"Why did you even leave, anyway?" Lucio asked, "I mean...I thought we had a good thing goin', man. What made you wanna leave?"

Junkrat took a deep breath and did his best impression of a shrug through his bandaged arm, wincing in pain as he moved the cracked collarbone. He swallowed hard, but didn't say anything, just staring at the ceiling above him. He was certain they knew about the masked man in his room, he was certain they'd sent him. They'd been tired of his presence, they'd made that much clear. And besides which, he'd put them all in danger with his secrets. He didn't belong here. These people were so much different than he could ever be.

He didn't want to be here anymore.

"...Junkrat?" Mei asked, leaning forward to try to meet his eyes.

He looked at her for a split second then turned his gaze back up to the ceiling, shaking his head, "Look, I got the message when your masked friend showed up in my room, okay? You don't want me here, not without a treasure to back it up, right?"

"What the hell are you talkin' about?" McCree asked, swapping his bored stance for a more confrontational one, "We went out of our way to get you back, kid. Why would we want you gone?"

"Hold on, what masked friend?" Tracer asked, looking around at the people standing in the room with a confused expression. Angela met the question with a shrug; the only person she knew who wore a mask was Roadhog, and she was certain he wouldn't say or do anything to hurt Junkrat, _especially_ after everything he'd gone through to try to protect the kid.

"The old guy in the mask," Junkrat said, his voice a raspy whisper. He wasn't looking at any of them as he spoke, only staring at the ceiling and fighting back tears.

"Old guy in the mask...?" Lucio echoed, looking around at the group. Like Angela, the only person he knew who wore a mask was Roadhog, who he was certain wouldn't convince Junkrat to leave. Hell, the big Junker had come back after they'd left, begging for help in tracking Junkrat down.

Both Winston and Ana chanced a glance at Jack, Winston with wide eyes and Ana with a knowing glare. Jack didn't look at either one of them, instead narrowing his eyes at Junkrat with the least possible sympathetic look he could muster.

"I never told you to leave."

Everyone in the room turned to stare at Jack Morrison in that moment, each one looking somewhere between surprised, hurt, and angry. Jack looked at each of them in turn and gave a nonchalant shrug, "What?"

"What do you mean, you never told him to leave?" Torbjorn asked through clenched teeth; his irritation was clear.

Jack scoffed, "Don't give me that tone, Torbjorn, I meant what I said." He turned a glare back to Junkrat, "I never forced you to leave. You came to that decision on your own."

"You made it perfectly clear I wasn't welcome, mate," Junkrat retorted, returning the glare with one of his own. He devolved into a fit of coughs and fell back against his pillow, trying to catch his breath.

"Jack," Ana said, her voice soft, "explain yourself."

"I don't _need_ to explain anything, Ana, I was trying to help them."

"How exactly does sending the boy away help us, hmm?" Torbjorn asked. Behind him, Reinhardt put a steadying hand on Roadhog's shoulder as the big man's entire stance shifted forward; Roadhog wanted to _kill_ Jack Morrison in that moment, but he wouldn't do it here in front of his friends.

Jack better not find himself alone in a dark hallway anytime soon, though.

"He's lying to you," Jack retorted, turning his angry glare to Torbjorn, "They both are."

"'bout what, exactly?" McCree asked, trying to make his voice as calm as possible. His eyes were on Roadhog; they had to handle this carefully or they'd have a major fight on their hands.

"Whatever he promised you when you picked him up," Jack stated with a shrug, "They're here for a free ride, that's it."

Roadhog scoffed at that, shaking his head, "This place ain't paradise."

"Well, you've certainly managed to make yourselves at home despite that, haven't you?" Jack retorted.

Reinhardt grabbed hold of both of Roadhog's shoulders then, pulling the big Junker back toward him, "Roadhog, no," he grumbled under his breath, "Let us talk to him. Please."

"Jack, what possessed you to speak with this boy at all?" Ana asked.

"I told you already, I wanted to help them. They were being used by these...felons, and they didn't seem to recognize it."

"That's not our concern, Jack," Ana said, looking mildly disappointed, "We're not technically part of Overwatch anymore."

"Don't say that," Winston said, "You are. You always will be."

"Thank you, Winston," Ana said with an appreciative smile, "But we cannot operate as your leaders anymore. You have built this place up, you have brought Overwatch back on your own." Her gaze shifted to Jack, "We might be a part of Overwatch, but we operate under Winston, now."

"I know that," Jack said with a shrug, "That's why I asked him to allow me to speak with Junkrat before I actually did it."

Winston's stomach leapt into his throat as everyone turned to look at him this time, now with confused expressions. The worst part was that some of them actually looked mildly hurt by this news, and that felt _terrible_.

He hadn't wanted this...he hadn't wanted to let Jack have his talk...he never should have allowed it...

"You did _what_?" Roadhog asked, his head tilted to one side and his chin up. Winston couldn't see the man's face for the mask, but he could picture the glare he was receiving right now; his charge had been put in danger over this, and Winston had allowed it to happen.

"He...he volunteered to talk to Junkrat about the treasure, that's all." Winston said, "I mean, I didn't think it was a good idea, but he talked me into it. He made...a decent argument. I didn't...want any of you to have to bring it up...again..." He sighed and looked down at Jack, "I did say this was a bad idea, didn't I? I did say I thought it would wind up badly." His panicked gaze turned toward Roadhog and Junkrat, flicking back and forth between the two Junkers with wide eyes, "I never wanted anyone to get hurt, I swear. I just...I didn't...I couldn't....I...."

He took a few shaky breaths, suddenly feeling like he might cry, "I'm so sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry, Winston," Jack said, "You did the right thing."

"You don't get to talk right now," Torbjorn said, his good eye narrowing up at Jack, "Winston is trying his best, and you come in here and bully him into doing something he doesn't want to do?"

"I didn't bully him, Torbjorn. You're out of line."

"No, I'm well within the line, _Commander_ ," Torbjorn yelled, vitriol dripping from the last word, "Winston claims he thought it was a bad idea, I'm inclined to believe him. He's not stupid." He gave Winston an apologetic glare, "A bit of a doormat of course, but very smart. You wanted your way, you wanted to be in charge, and you bullied him into agreeing with you!"

"Torby, that's enough," McCree said, his tone short, "We don't need a fight over this. Not here."

Torbjorn continued speaking to Jack as if he hadn't heard McCree, taking a step toward the old Commander with an angry finger pointed his way, "And after you'd convinced Winston to see things your way, you went and talked to the kid _wearing your mask_? You went in there fully intent on intimidating him!"

"He wasn't giving you any information, Torbjorn," Jack countered, "Intimidation was the only way to get what he'd promised from him."

"Oh?" Torbjorn asked, crossing his arms over his chest, "So what'd ya get, then?"

"He didn't say anything," Jack said with a shrug, "He just volunteered to leave -- on his own, if I can remind you of that little fact -- and I left him alone."

"Hmm," Torbjorn said with a nod, "so...intimidation didn't work then, did it? All it did was nearly get him killed. At least doing it Winston's way, no one was getting hurt."

"You all were," Jack said, motioning to the room as a whole, "They were lying to you, putting you in danger. He actively set fire to most of the Watchpoint, Torbjorn. You distrusted him enough to bug his weapon, but I'm the bad guy here?"

Torbjorn shook his head, "I didn't trust him back when I did that. And besides, it saved his life."

"And I don't trust him now, Torby," Jack said in response, "So you understand where I'm coming from. I don't know him. And I fully believe both of these Junkers are using all of you. Until they prove otherwise, I'll always believe that." He shrugged, "You can't tell me it was easy for you to be nice to them. Not at first."

"We never threatened him," Torbjorn retorted, shaking his head.

"Neither did I," Jack said, his arms spread as if surrendering to an enemy.

"Why the mask, then?" Reinhardt asked. The big German's grip on Roadhog's shoulders was tight, his nails digging into the other man's arms. Roadhog was actively trying to pull away from his friend and take a swing at Jack; he wanted nothing more than to kill Overwatch's old Commander in that moment.

Jack shrugged, "I thought it would come in handy. Let him know I was serious. It's worked on criminals before."

"That...does come across as rather threatening, my friend," Reinhardt said, "A stranger he's never met, coming at him wearing a mask? I would feel threatened."

Jack scoffed, "Nothing threatens you, Rein."

"That does not mean I never _feel_ threatened, Jack," Reinhardt said, his expression sad, "I just do not let my enemies know their tactics are working."

"Why try to block our rescue attempts?" Torbjorn asked, his arms still crossed and his tone angry, "Why try to talk us out of going, despite all evidence pointing to him being in trouble?"

Jack looked over at Ana as though asking for help, and spoke directly to her, "It was dangerous, right?" He turned back to Torbjorn, "You didn't know what you were getting into out there. And there wasn't rock solid evidence he was even in trouble."

"I said he was," Roadhog muttered. The big Junker had given up his attempts at tackling Jack and beating the shit out of him, but Reinhardt still hadn't let up on his grip; they didn't need Jack being killed right now.

"And why would I trust your word?"

Roadhog scoffed, "Isn't it your fucking _job_ to save people?"

"Not criminals."

"Really?" Lucio asked, his brow furrowed, "Because I joined Overwatch to help everyone who needed it, not just the good guys. I joined so that I could make a difference. So what if they're criminals, man? They needed our help."

"Not at the risk of losing all of you," Jack said, his voice sounding surprisingly choked up in response.

"Dude," Lucio said, stepping forward now until he was the only person standing directly in front of Jack, "I think you've kinda lost track of what we do here."

Jack scoffed and shook his head, "What's that?"

"We _help_ people," Lucio said, "even at the risk of our own lives." He looked back at Mei, gave her a nod, "The world is worth fighting for, Commander Morrison. She said that," he said with a chuckle, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder toward Mei. "We're doing the best we can with what little we have, and even if we _didn't_ like these two -- which we do -- we would have risked our lives for them. Any day. That's why I joined Overwatch, dude. To help people who can't help themselves. I mean, right?"

Jack's eyes narrowed as he looked Lucio up and down, his arms crossed over his chest. Lucio looked slightly uncomfortable but had drawn himself up to his full (rather short) height, his fists clenched at his sides. He didn't want to fight, that much was true, but he would always fight for what was right, even if that meant going head to head against Overwatch's former Commander. The two men locked eyes for a few moments, then Jack sighed, swallowed, and gave a curt nod, "Right. You're right."

He glanced at everyone else in the room, giving each one a nod, "Tend to your friend." It was all he said before turning around to leave the room, his fists clenched and his stance high.

He was angry, but that Lucio kid had been right.

Jack _had_ lost track of what Overwatch stood for, and in an effort to protect his friends, he'd gotten someone hurt. Someone he didn't care about in the slightest, but still. He'd hurt his friends in his efforts to take care of them, and that stung.

The old Overwatch had died with Jack Morrison. The new Overwatch was doing fine under new leadership.

He'd just have to find a way to accept that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured Lucio would be the perfect person to remind Jack of what Overwatch stands for.
> 
> "The world could always use more heroes," Tracer says. Lucio is practically the personification of those words. I love him for it. Who better to talk some sense into Jack in a kind caring way than Overwatch's own resident cinnamon roll.
> 
> I love the guy. I really, really do.


End file.
